


The Right Choice

by Sassy_Lil_Scorpio



Series: The Choices We Make [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brotherhood, Butterfly Effect, Choices, Consequences, Darkfic, Decisions, Defensive, Disassociation, Execution, Friendship, Ganging up against one person, Gen, Grief, Hate, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Kill or be killed, Last words, Love, Mortality, Murder, Outcomes, Regrets, Remorse, Rivalary, Trauma, Violence, implied gang rape, one event changes everything, protective, severe harm, the lesser of two evils, thwarted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-16 08:51:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sassy_Lil_Scorpio/pseuds/Sassy_Lil_Scorpio
Summary: Shane sneaks into the barn to kill Randall and is thwarted by Daryl and T-Dog. Rick decides to execute Shane for his attempted murder of Randall, and also his affair with Lori and Otis' murder. He chooses to follow through with his plan to release Randall. Is Rick making the right choice? Or will his decision have deadly ramifications for everyone? {Trigger Warning} {Darkfic} {AU}





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Shane Walsh, Rick Grimes, and all other characters from The Walking Dead are from the creative imagination of Robert Kirkman. This author makes no claim of ownership. No monetary gain is being made from this work.
> 
>  **Author's Notes:** This is a butterfly-effect type of AU (Alternate Universe) fanfiction where if one event changes, everything else changes. The lyrics to Chris Tomlin's "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Broken)" makes a brief appearance in this story. The rating for this fanfiction was originally "T", but due to the dark nature of the story's later events, "M" seemed more appropriate.
> 
>  **Thank You:** Thank you to my fellow TWD fans on WalkingDeadForums . Com, especially Shane357, Ionut, Zvivor, Rapscallion, Biffster, Bassman, StaceFace, and PepperAnn.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick makes plans with Daryl and T-Dog to release Randall and finds out that Shane has plans of his own.

"Here's how it's gonna go down," Rick said, speaking to Daryl and T-Dog. They were outside on Hershel's farm next to the pick-up truck. "Daryl and I are gonna drop off Randall. We'll take him further out than Shane and I did. I'm hopin' this will be the last of this Randall mess so we can put it behind us."

Earlier today, he decided he would work with them to address the Randall issue. He hadn't been successful the first time with Shane. Instead of dropping off Randall as planned, they ended up having a vicious fight when the tension between them reached a breaking point. Rick's patience for Shane was shrinking with every argument and altercation. He wouldn't dismiss Shane completely, but he wouldn't go out of his way to work with him either. Nor would he consult him regarding any new concerns. Not when Shane constantly criticized his decisions, doubted his ability to keep the group safe, or made it all about Lori and Carl. Right now, Rick felt it was better to discuss the Randall situation with Daryl and T-Dog as they were objective and fair about the situation. And they weren't hot-headed like Shane.

"So you'll drive him far enough so that he can't get back to the farm?" T-Dog asked.

"We'll bring him somewhere he's not familiar with."

"How far did you go out last time?"

"We went out eighteen miles, more or less."

"Are we givin' him any weapons, so that he has a shot at survivin' out there?" Daryl asked. He remembered Rick told him he had left Randall with a knife the first time he and Shane attempted to discard the prisoner.

"I don't see why not," Rick said. "We can give him a loaded gun. Whatever he does with it is up to him. Shoot some walkers or blow his brains out. His choice."

"Sounds fair," T-Dog said. "We're giving him a chance at living out there."

"We're not overly helpin' him either," Daryl added.

"Right, and we're not straight out killing him," Rick said. "That's what Shane wanted to do. I wouldn't let him."

T-Dog shook his head, astounded by Shane's recent behavior. This was _not_ the same Shane Walsh who had asked him to join the Atlanta group.

Daryl let out a low whistle. "Do you think he's too far gone?"

"I don't know..." Rick paused as he thought about it. "I try not to think about it. I just know he can't be involved with anything involving Randall anymore."

"You want Randall gone, so just take care of it the way you want to," T-Dog said. "I'll back you up."

"Same here," Daryl agreed. "We got you covered."

Rick was inwardly relieved. They had formulated a solid plan without the constant bickering that was present when Shane was around. "Good, so we're all in agreement about how to approach this. T-Dog, here's the keys. Go to the barn and check on him. Daryl and I will be there in a few minutes."

T-Dog took the keys from Rick and started towards the barn. The plan made sense. Check on Randall, make sure he's still there, and let Rick and Daryl carry out their plan to release him.

"Not so fast!" Daryl called out behind him.

T-Dog stopped in his tracks and turned around to face Daryl. He glanced over his shoulder when he saw Daryl pointing ahead of him. Rick came up behind Daryl to see what had caught his attention: Shane approached the barn by himself. He glanced around, making sure no one saw him. Then he quickly entered and closed the doors behind him. All three men noticed that Shane had his Glock 17 with him.

"Looks like he got a head start on us," Daryl said. "How'd he know what we were plannin' to do?"

Rick shook his head in disbelief. Leave it to Shane to be one step ahead of them, even though Rick had already made it clear to him that he wasn't permitted near the barn or allowed to address Randall on his own.

T-Dog felt frustrated and uncertain. "Damn, Rick. What do we do from here?"

It didn't take long for Rick to change plans. "We follow Shane to find out what he's got up his sleeve. Go on ahead, T-Dog. Daryl and I will be right behind you. Make sure he doesn't see you."

T-Dog left them to catch up with Shane. He made sure that he wasn't noisy or too obvious.

"You think he plans on offin' Randall?" Daryl asked. He reached for his crossbow slung across his back. His instincts told him he would end up using it before the day was over.

Rick nodded. "He was pissed off when we didn't do it the first time, so now he's takin' matters into his own hands. We're gonna stop him before he gets too far."

Daryl quickly loaded a bolt into his crossbow. Rick watched as he went to the outside of the barn, while T-Dog approached the entrance…


	2. Thwarted and Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and T-Dog stop Shane from killing Randall in the nick of time.

_"It has been said that something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can ultimately cause a typhoon halfway around the world."_  
Chaos Theory -The Butterfly Effect (2004)

Shane quickly looked over his shoulder.

Nobody was around. Perfect. It would take less than five minutes to execute his plan and at the end of the day, everyone would be safe from Randall.

Rick wanted to give the kid a second chance at life, but Shane wanted a second chance to murder him. After Randall tried to manipulate Carl into freeing him, and after Daryl shared that his group had raped two teenagers in front of their father, Shane was more than convinced that the prisoner was a threat that had to be eliminated. In Shane's eyes, Randall's life was not worth risking the lives of the entire group. Since Rick was taking forever to arrive at that conclusion and Shane figured he would never get there in time, he decided he'd jump ahead of him. He would make the decision that Rick couldn't and wouldn't make: kill Randall once and for all.

A dead and decomposing Randall was safer than a living and breathing Randall.

Shane snuck into the barn after making sure that no one had seen him. He slid between the doors and made sure they were closed. The last thing he needed was to be interrupted by Rick or anyone else. Glancing around the interior of the barn, Shane spotted what he was looking for. He snatched a stool situated at the end of the wall and purposely set it down loud enough for Randall to know that someone was in the barn with him. Randall flinched and sat up, aware that he wasn't alone. Shane smirked and stifled his amusement when he saw Randall trembling. The kid tried curling into a protective ball, although it was impossible to do so because of the restraints. _Good. You should be afraid, you piece of shit,_ Shane thought. Randall's head turned from side to side as he tried to figure out who was with him. He couldn't do anything to defend himself. Gagged, blindfolded, and cuffed, he had been kept that way ever since he and Rick had failed to drop him off at the abandoned workstation.

Shane sat on the stool and thought about what he planned to do. Kill Randall. Dispose of his body away from the farm. Drive off somewhere and dump it on the side of the road. His heart jumped a mile a minute when he pictured carrying out his plan. Out of long-standing habit born from frayed nerves and constant anxiety, Shane rubbed his head, his face, and then his hands. The anxiety wasn't new. It had been present ever since the outbreak started and had worsened over time until it consumed him in his every waking moment. He feared he would lose control, although he tried very hard to remain steadfast. As much as he wanted relief from the dark thoughts that wrapped around his psyche, he knew they wouldn't go away. He stared at Randall intensely; his hatred for the kid increased with each passing second. Randall had no idea who was in the barn with him or that his murder was being planned down to the last detail.

_I can do this...kill this stupid kid...and then kill Rick..._

_Kill Randall..._

_Kill Rick..._

_Rick..._

Shane smacked himself as a mixture of emotions crept up on him and made their way to the forefront of his mind. Now was not the time to feel sympathy or fear. He had to stifle the emotions. Block them out. _Turn off the switch,_ as he tried to teach Andrea. He had to pretend guilt was dead and rotting. It needed to be six feet under Shane's conscious. Bury the guilt under layers of justifications and rationalizations so that it would never be exhumed.

 _If I kill Rick, it'll be better for the group. He's not fit to lead. Lori will understand. Carl will get over it..._ The terrifying thoughts swarmed in his mind, a perfect storm brewing.

He stood up and pulled out his Glock 17 and aimed it at Randall. It would take less than a minute for him to pull the trigger and plant a bullet in Randall's head. He would eliminate the threat that Randall posed to the group. Everyone would be safe. Shane thought about the other part of his plan... _lure Rick to find Randall, pretend the prisoner escaped, corner and kill my best friend..._

He tucked the Glock 17 in his pants and pulled Randall forward. The younger man twisted and fidgeted. Shane ignored it. Randall was uncomfortable, but Shane didn't care. He was lucky he was given accommodations on the Greene farm after he had shot at Rick, Glenn, and Hershel. Shane noticed the blood around Randall's wrists where the handcuffs had chewed his skin. It was obvious that he was trying to escape. _You're not goin' anywhere. Only your filthy corpse will leave here,_ Shane thought, feeling a wave of black hatred engulf him. This was the motivation he needed to press forward.

Shane made up his mind and pulled out his Glock 17 a second time. This time his finger curled around the trigger and it felt completely natural. He pointed the gun at Randall's head, anticipating the thunder of the gunshot and expecting to see blood, bone, and brain matter spray against the wall when he completed the execution. He grinned when he imagined Randall laying dead at his feet. _Adios, dirtbag. Rot in hell._ Shane was so caught up in the moment that he didn't see or hear the doors to the barn get flung open by T-Dog and Daryl.

"OH HELL NO!" T-Dog shouted. He couldn't keep the shock from his voice.

Shane whipped around in T-Dog's direction and at that exact moment Daryl fired a bolt at his free arm to disable him.

 _"_ _Shit!"_ Shane's voice was an animalistic growl, a mix of pain and fury.

His eyes flew to the bolt embedded in his skin just as he saw Daryl and T-Dog run into the barn. Now completely distracted, Shane tried to yank the bolt out of his arm when T-Dog rushed behind him and grabbed the stool he had just sat on. Wasting no time, T-Dog crashed the stool across Shane's back. Shane collapsed to the floor and T-Dog tossed the stool aside. The Glock 17 lay on the floor, abandoned and forgotten.

Shane rolled over on his back and kicked T-Dog's legs, attempting to knock him down or make him lose his balance. T-Dog tried to maintain the upper-hand as he pinned Shane to the floor and punched him in the face several times, bloodying his nose. He heard Daryl rushing back and forth behind him as he tried to get a shot in to end the fight. Nothing happened and T-Dog knew Daryl kept hesitating: he didn't want to shoot the wrong man.

"Just shoot!" T-Dog called out. He trusted Daryl's aim and needed the back-up.

He hoped that Shane would tire out, especially with one of Daryl's bolts sticking out of his arm, but Shane was stronger and angrier from being surprise attacked. It seemed the more T-Dog tried to overpower him, the more it energized Shane. T-Dog made the mistake of looking over his shoulder at Daryl for a split-second, when Shane took advantage and reversed their positions. Now T-Dog was pinned down as Shane kneed him in the groin and slammed his head against the ground. Deciding that wasn't enough, Shane punched T-Dog across the face with all the force he could muster. He didn't care if T-Dog lost a few teeth. In Shane's mind, T-Dog and Daryl both deserved whatever they got for trying to stop him. T-Dog lay on his back on the ground, heaving and panting, exhausted from the fight with Shane.

"This man's got nine lives," Daryl muttered as he came up behind Shane and aimed his crossbow at him. "Hands on your head. Leave the Glock 17 where it is."

Shane swiftly pulled the bolt out of his arm and grabbed the Glock 17 from the ground. Aiming it at Daryl, he slowly rose to his feet and wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. He glanced at the blood on his hand and then at Daryl who still had his crossbow trained on him.

"You think your lil crossbow is faster than a speedin' bullet?" Shane asked, keeping his sights on Daryl.

"One way to find out," Daryl said, never losing track of his target.

Both men circled each other, their gun and crossbow drawn and ready to be fired at a second's notice.

"You and T-Dog jumped me to save that piece of garbage...fuckin' pathetic."

"Rick doesn't want him dead."

Shane sneered. "I don't give a shit about what Rick wants or doesn't want. You wanna be his lil lap-puppy? Go right on ahead."

Daryl gripped his crossbow tighter. He was close to firing another bolt at Shane, but decided distraction would be the best thing.

"Let's keep it real. Man to man."

"'Man to man'?" Shane scoffed. "That's a tall order for a guy like you--hillbilly scum."

Daryl let Shane's insult roll off his back. He had heard much worse about himself in his life and Shane's comments were drivel to him.

"This ain't about whose weapon is faster, it's really about who's better at being Rick's right-hand man at this time."

"I'll ask Glenn to pick up pom-poms next time he's on a supply run, so you can be Rick's cheerleader."

"What does that make you? Rick's ass-wiper? Nah, you were Lori's bitch."

Daryl's tone never wavered, but a grin quickly lit his face and disappeared when he saw Shane's face flush red with anger. He knew exactly where to hit Shane where it hurt. As far as he was concerned, this was Shane's doing and no one else's.

"The way she had you spinnin' your wheels. I'd never let a woman come between me and my best friend."

"Hush up about things you don't know about. You're just trailer trash."

Shane cocked back the hammer of his gun. So he wouldn't get to shoot Randall yet. That's okay...he would shoot Daryl first, T-Dog next, and save Randall for last. A wave of panic swept over Shane, but just as quickly, he squashed it under the rationalization that he was doing what needed to be done. If anyone got in his way, then it was their own fault if they landed in an early grave. He didn't want to kill anyone except Randall, but then Daryl and T-Dog had to ruin his plans. What made him furious was that he was killing Randall to protect them---and they couldn't see or understand that he was doing what was necessary to keep them alive and safe. Shane was focused on Daryl and didn't hear T-Dog quietly get to his feet.

"Soon, you'll be _dead_ trailer trash. Take your pick."

" _'_ _Daryl Dixon'_ works for me jus' fine."

"That wasn't an option."

Daryl shrugged and looked past Shane. Shane noticed Daryl's eyes flicker to a point behind him and turned around in time as T-Dog slammed the stool across his face. Shane crumpled to the ground in front of Randall who was squirming in his restraints. He had heard all the commotion, but had no idea what was going on.

"Thanks, man. I was wonderin' when he'd shut up," Daryl said as he approached Shane's fallen form, while still keeping his crossbow trained on him. He would fire a second bolt if necessary. Shane lay face down with his arms stretched out in front of him and legs slightly bent. Daryl watched him to make sure he didn't regain consciousness. He finally lowered his crossbow when he was certain that Shane was knocked out cold. "Take this." He snatched Shane's Glock 17 from the ground and passed it to T-Dog. "She's yours now. If he gets his hands on her again, he'll use it on you an' me, no question about it."

T-Dog tossed the stool aside and glanced at the gun that had almost been used to kill Randall. Trembling and badly shaken from the physical altercation against Shane, his breathing came out in uneven gasps. Daryl placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"I got one already, Daryl."

"Alright, just put his to the side or hold onto it until Rick comes. He ain't gettin' up from that blow you gave him. Take it easy, man."

T-Dog nodded, appreciative of Daryl's support. At that moment, Rick walked into the barn and stopped short when he saw T-Dog and Daryl standing on either side of the unconscious Shane. Somehow, he was shocked, and yet not all that surprised.

"What was he doin'?" Rick asked.

"We stopped him in time, Rick," T-Dog said as he felt himself slowly calm down. "He was aiming his gun at Randall. Almost shot him through the head. If me and Daryl got here a minute too late, we'd be burying Randall right now." He handed Shane's Glock 17 to Rick.

Rick stared at Shane's gun and then glanced at Randall. Unable to voice his fear, Randall made whimpering noises behind his duct tape gag. He thought about removing Randall's blindfold and gag, and reassuring him that he was safe, but then decided against it. Randall didn't need to be treated with kid gloves. And neither did Shane for that matter...

"You and Daryl did the right thing."

"I used target tips on the bolts," Daryl said. "Penetrates the skin, but leaves no serious injury."

"Enough to debilitate him or slow him down," Rick said.

"Exactly."

Rick was quiet for a moment as he thought about what to do. He realized he would have to focus his energy on solving the problem that had a new name: _Shane Walsh_. Dropping off Randall could wait. He had an idea of what he planned to do and he'd run it by the rest of the group. First, Rick needed to ensure his new prisoner didn't get away and that he would no longer be a danger to anyone on Hershel's farm. Now he approached Shane, who lay still between T-Dog and Daryl.

"Tie him up," Rick ordered as he kicked Shane over so that he was laying on his back. "From there, we'll figure out what to do about him."


	3. The Tables Have Turned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick confronts Shane about his controversial decisions and reveals what will happen to him and Randall in the near future.

  _"_ _Of treacherous blood or weak fits of will  
The one that you save could be the one set to kill"_

-Chocolate Genius "Life"—Breaking Bad S2-E13

 

Shane woke up to a painful sensation racing up and down his arms. His left arm ached from where Daryl's bolt had pierced it. He looked up and saw his hands were pulled high above his head and bound together with thick rope. They were tied to a wooden post. He didn't know how long he had been knocked out and tied up, but it seemed like forever. He looked around and realized he was in the barn. A coil of rope, a roll of duct tape, and his Glock 17 lay several feet away from him.

He blinked as he became fully conscious. That's when he felt the burn of the rope squeezing against his waist and pressing against his skin. He realized his waist, like his hands, were also tied to the post. When he budged, it sent searing pain everywhere. Whoever had done this wanted to make sure Shane had zero chance of escaping. He was sitting on the ground, his back against the wooden post. His calves and thighs were tied together with the same rope. He tried speaking and felt sticky tape stretched across his mouth.

"About time you woke up, Shane. For a minute, I thought you'd sleep away the next ten years."

Shane looked up at the sound of Rick's voice. Rick towered above him and then knelt down so that he was at eye level with Shane. He ripped off the duct tape gag from Shane's mouth.

"Daryl and T-Dog took you down before you could do anything."

"Do what? I have no idea what you're talkin' about," Shane muttered as he glanced up at his hands. He tried twisting them free, but whoever tied him up had made the knots tight and secure.

"Don't bullshit me, Shane. We both know what I'm talkin' about."

Shane tried to shrug and hot pain slammed against his shoulders. They were already stiffening from being lashed up in an uncomfortable position.

"You were gonna kill Randall," Rick said.

"And if I did?"

Rick punched Shane across the face, bloodying his mouth. In defiance, Shane spat in Rick's face. Rick ignored the gob of blood and saliva sliding down his cheek.

"You have twenty-four hours and we'll decide what to do about you. That should be plenty of time to reflect on your life and the decisions you made."

"Yeah, I bet. Decisions, choices…whatever. Life's full of 'em."

"Seems like you have a lot of thinkin' an' reflectin' to do. Might as well, right? You're not goin' anywhere anytime soon."

Shane chuckled, although he really wanted to throttle Rick. "Think about what? How I'm gonna beat your ass when I get free of these ropes?" He pulled against his bonds and barely moved an inch.

Rick ignored Shane's threats. "Think on how you left me in the hospital. How you slept with my wife. How you killed Otis. And how you were about to kill Randall."

Shane looked at Rick now, his expression a mix of shock and anger. Against his will, tears burned in his eyes. He wasn't one to cry at all, but Rick's accusation that he had left him in the hospital on purpose scorched his soul. It was bad enough that Lori called him a liar. He could handle that, even though it ripped his heart out when she made it clear she didn't want him around Carl anymore. But to hear it from Rick? The brief sadness he felt was quickly replaced by raw anger that his best friend would throw his recent situations back in his face.

"I did the best I could…I didn't want to leave you there."

"But you did."

"I had no choice!" Shane strained against the ropes as he tried to lunge forward. The ropes held him firmly in place. "We would've both been killed—there was walkers on one end of the hallway and the military were at the other end killing the living! The _living_ , Rick, _not_ the dead. I had to think fast and I knew you'd want me to get out of there and bring Lori and Carl to safety. I used that gurney to block your door to keep you safe. You're still alive because of that!"

He closed his eyes when he remembered what happened. "Terrifying" was an understatement and Shane had been in many life-threatening situations during his career. This was totally different and unlike anything he had ever experienced. The military killed the living. The dead walked and devoured those still breathing. Deafening screams and gunshots flooded his ears. People ran around with nowhere to go. It was beyond horrible...He wanted to get Rick out of there, but there was no way they would both survive. He hoped Rick accepted his explanation—that he believed him after all this time. He opened his eyes again, hoping to see understanding from his best friend. Rick remained stoic. His face had hardened and his eyes were icy blue. Shane knew his explanation had fallen on deaf ears. He still continued to reach out to Rick, to explain his side of everything.

"I'm sorry for what I did to Lori. It takes two, Rick. You know that as well as I do. Are you gonna execute her, too? For spreading her legs? For having my baby?!"

"It's _my_ baby," Rick growled as he stood up quickly and kicked Shane in the stomach. Shane groaned in pain. "And I know what you tried to do to her at the CDC."

At the mention of the CDC, Shane hung his head in shame. He couldn't face Rick.

"That wasn't—I didn't…" He stammered with his words. He knew he was wrong to try to force himself on Lori, and yes, he was drunk that night, but that wasn't an excuse for his awful behavior. He didn't want to rape her or harm her. He just wanted her to listen to him—like she used to before Rick returned. He wanted her adoration and attention, especially during those times when they used to meet in the woods for their lovemaking. He yearned to bring back what he and Lori used to have before Rick showed up alive at the camp.

Most of all, he wanted her to give him a chance to explain what really happened at the hospital.

He needed her to know that he didn't lie to her or manipulate her. And he didn't abandon Rick when his best friend needed him most. What he wanted that night and what he had done were two different things. In the end, he let his emotions get the best of him and became forceful, although he knew in his heart that it was _never_ his intention to rape her. Now Rick was confronting him about it and he knew how it appeared and he felt regretful for the entire situation. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"And Otis? You shot him and left him for dead."

Shane drew in his breath at the mention of Otis. What he had done to Otis had always haunted him. He never spoke about the entire situation to anyone. He knew no one would understand what went through his mind when he had made that excruciating choice. He made a thinly veiled confession of what had actually went down that night when he gave Andrea shooting lessons:

_There ain't nothing easy about taking a man's life, no matter how little value it may have. But when you get it done, you have to forget it._ _I guess I haven't quite got that last part down yet._

He wanted to tell Rick that he didn't shoot Otis out of malice or hatred. He was in an impossible situation and it was either him or Otis—and if he didn't make it back, Carl would've died. What would've happened to Lori and Rick if Carl had died?! It was a question that Shane didn't want to answer, and it's what pushed him to sacrifice Otis. He loved Carl, he loved Rick...and yes, he loved Lori. What ate away at Shane was that Rick had said he would've done the same thing if he were in the same situation—after confronting Shane about it. That he would do anything to keep Carl alive…

"Rick, you said you understood—that you would've done the same thing for Carl."

"You know I would NEVER sacrifice someone in cold blood. For Carl, yes, but—"

"But nothing, Rick! I didn't want to do it! I told him to go ahead of me and he didn't!"

Shane knew he was begging Rick to understand him. He hated that he was pleading to someone who had already made up their mind—even if that person was once his best friend and brother. Shane stopped and composed himself. All sorrow vanished from his face and voice. Pure rage erupted from him now.

"Fuck you, Rick—you don't know _shit_. You live in a dream-world where everything is still the same, and you can still do things the way you used to. We had this conversation before."

"You're right, we did," Rick agreed. "Eighteen miles out."

"You weren't there that night—but _I_ was! And all because that man shot your son when tryin' to hunt a deer. I was tryin' to get the supplies back so that Carl would live—and he did! He _lived_! Doesn't that mean anything to you?!"

Rick's face softened, but only slightly. "It does." He knelt down next to Shane, at eye level with him again.

"Then why do you have me tied up like this?" Shane twisted against the ropes, causing waves of pain to shoot up and down his arms and legs. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"Because you're dangerous, Shane," Rick's voice was wooden. "You were about to kill Randall."

"Because we didn't follow our original plan. Eighteen miles out, dump the sorry son of a bitch. He shot at you, Rick! Even Glenn confirmed that and Daryl told us he runs with guys who raided from other survivors and raped women for fun! He tried to manipulate Carl into setting him free. He has a group of thirty men that'll come to this farm and wipe us all out!"

"I've heard this all before."

"And it still hasn't made a dent in your brain. The kid's dangerous, Rick, you can't take chances with him!"

Rick said nothing for several minutes as he stared at the far wall in the barn. The silence made Shane uncomfortable and he tried looking over his shoulder, realizing it was only him and Rick in the barn.

"Where is he? You moved him?"

Rick finally turned to face Shane. "We're lettin' him go."

Shane's jaw dropped. "You're lettin' that piece of garbage go back to his thirty-something men instead of putting a bullet in his brain?! And you did this to _me_?!" He struggled against the ropes again, desperate to free himself.

"I had help. Daryl did your thighs and calves; T-Dog took care of your wrists and waist. I sat back and watched."

Shane's chest rose and fell as he breathed deeply to keep himself calm. He tried to contain his increasing anger, although he knew it was a losing battle. Hearing the smugness in Rick's voice made him want to strangle his best friend. The tone in Rick's voice was clear to Shane: he was glad that Shane couldn't avoid whatever he had planned. _You sat back and watched and enjoyed every second of it. Makes you feel good to be in control, Rick?_ Shane thought as disbelief flooded his mind. This couldn't be happening to him...but it was. It was real...just as Rick's plan to free Randall was real. _You're saying_ I'm _dangerous, but you're letting that shitty kid go back to his killer-rapist friends..._ He couldn't hold back his fury anymore...not after all the unfair accusations Rick had made against him. He wanted Rick to know how much he hated him in this very moment.

"You better hope these ropes hold, Rick. If I ever get loose…" He was silent for a few seconds as he locked eyes with Rick. "I will fuckin' _kill_ you."

A wry smile flashed across Rick's face. "Not if I kill _you_ first. Now simmer down, shut up for five minutes, an' let me speak. I'll explain everything so that there's no fog in your mind about what's gonna happen."

He grabbed the roll of duct tape, tore off a piece, and smacked it over Shane's lips.

"That's better. Now, we're gonna decide what to do about you. You may be askin' yourself 'who's _'_ _we'_? The group. Hershel and his family. I could've exiled you, but you would come right back to the farm. I know you too well, Shane. Lori told me you had planned to leave the group, but you're still here causin' problems, gettin' everyone riled up. So I think it's time we eliminate you for good. Lori's afraid of you. The group doesn't trust you. Hershel and Patricia know what you did to Otis."

Shane looked away at the mention of Otis. He swallowed a lump in his throat before turning back to Rick.

Rick was oblivious to Shane's emotional reaction. "Dale had his suspicions for some time now. He told me about that time you pointed a gun at me when my back was turned. I have to tell you, Shane…I never imagined my best friend would turn into my worst enemy. It is what it is, right? The entire world's turned upside-down, gone straight to hell, and everything's changed."

Shane looked Rick directly in the eyes when he brought up what he had done. He remembered how emotionally jumbled he felt when he held the gun at Rick's back. On one hand, he was glad Rick had returned. On the other hand, Lori had cut him off and forbade him to see Carl. Rick's return led to his leadership crumbling and the woman he loved had rejected him and assumed the worst about him: that Shane had manipulated her the entire time. There was no easy way for Shane to explain what he thought and felt when he pointed his gun at Rick. He loved his best friend, and yet, he was also jealous of him. He knew he was wrong and he had to own that.

However, there was a small part of him that wished he could articulate how he felt when Rick returned. He wished he hadn't told Lori that he didn't want Rick back—his reasoning being that Rick wasn't fit to survive in this world. Lori probably revealed that tidbit to Rick. Either way, it didn't matter since Shane knew Rick wouldn't give him a chance to explain himself. And even if he did, he still wouldn't listen.

"What were you gonna do, Shane? Kill Randall yourself? Use that as a ploy to lead me to the middle of nowhere so that you could kill me too? Not gonna happen. Not today, not tomorrow—not _ever_." He punched Shane across the face again. A trail of blood leaked from Shane's nose. "Throwing a wrench at me didn't work. I know it's only a matter of time before you try to kill me again. I'll be damned if I give you a chance to succeed."

Rick rose to his full height so that he was standing over Shane now, looking down at him.

"It's settled. You're gonna die in twenty-four hours. You won't be a danger to yourself. To me. To my family. Or to the rest of the group. Not anymore."

Shane took everything in. First, Rick said the group was going to make a decision about him. Then he said the decision was already made. Shane didn't know which one it was, and he stared straight ahead past Rick at another point in the barn. He needed to get Rick out of his line of sight because everything he said infuriated him. And he was still processing what Rick had just told him: _you're gonna die in twenty-four hours._

"As for Randall, we'll set him free. Daryl and I will drive him out further than we did."

Shane's eyes bulged out of their sockets when Rick disclosed this new revelation. He was going to die—but Randall was going to live. And Rick was permitting it! Shane tried to speak, but the duct tape gag muffled everything.

"I know this comes as a shock, but I figured I'd let you know what we're gonna do. I didn't want to keep you in the dark."

Shane glared at Rick with seething hatred. Rick wasn't trying to be open with Shane about his plans for Randall. No, he was rubbing it in his face that he and Daryl would succeed where he and Shane had failed. Shane shook his head, disagreeing with what Rick had just revealed.

"You don't have to like it. Or approve. In case you haven't noticed, you don't make decisions around here anymore."

Without warning, Rick left Shane for a few minutes and then returned with Daryl and T-Dog. Daryl had his crossbow slung over his shoulder and T-Dog carried a Glock 17, the same type of gun that Shane possessed.

"Take alternating four hour shifts guarding him. Sit with him in the barn—don't let him out of your sight."

Shane's eyebrows rose in surprise when he listened to Rick give directions to Daryl and T-Dog. Rick was taking extra precautions to ensure Shane didn't escape—precautions he didn't take with Randall. It burned him up that Rick was behaving as though he was far more dangerous than Randall—when it was the other way around. Everything Rick had brought up—the hospital, Lori, Otis, and now Randall—was to show Shane that he was horrible at making decisions, that he couldn't be trusted, and that he was a liability to the group. Rick's words reverberated in his mind: _You won't be a danger to yourself._ _To me._ _To my family._ _Or to the rest of the group._ _Not anymore._

Shane knew Rick was enjoying this. That he was getting off on the fact that he was leader of the group now, and more so, that he was taking revenge on Shane for sleeping with Lori and leaving him in the hospital. Shane shook his head, refusing to believe it. That wasn't like Rick at all…but then again, Rick had acknowledged how much Shane had changed—which he had. It seemed Rick had changed as well.

He acknowledged to himself that he had made poor choices. Aiming his gun at Rick when his best friend's back was turned. Trying to talk to Lori at the CDC and letting his emotions get the best of him, and then acting out in a way that badly frightened her. He wished he could change what he had done, but it was too late. Just as it was too late to turn back the hands of time, and try to get Rick out of the hospital (and risk getting them killed). Or let Otis go on ahead, while he stayed behind.

Of all the things that Rick had threw back in Shane's face, the Otis situation hurt the worst. Shane knew Otis wasn't going to make it. He was slowing down, and if he had listened to Shane, when Shane had sacrificed himself for him to go on ahead, the walkers would've caught up to Otis and killed him. Carl would be six feet under right now. It was either him or Otis, and one of them had to make it back to Carl—Shane knew he could do it. It was an awful decision to make, one that Shane replayed in his mind every day, but he knew he had made the right choice because Carl was alive now. Something that Rick failed to see or appreciate, and something that Dale, with all his suspicions, had no knowledge of.

"Hershel or Patricia will bring you food if you're hungry," Rick said, interrupting Shane's thoughts.

Shane looked up to see Rick standing with T-Dog and Daryl. All three men surrounded him and looked down at him. From his vantage point, Shane could see they were glad they had him under control.

"You gonna set it off, an' I take over after your first shift?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, let's do that," T-Dog agreed. He grabbed a stool nearby and sat across from Shane. It was the same stool he had used to knock out Shane.

"Good, we've got it covered." Rick leaned down and pulled off the duct tape from Shane's mouth. "Like I said, they'll feed you if you're hungry. I won't starve you. You have a right to a last meal."

"I don't need your pity or your food," Shane snapped. "I'll go on a hunger strike before I eat anything you serve me."

"Suit yourself," Rick said, coldly. "You have one day left to live. I'd spend it reflectin' on my life and what I would've done differently."

"I wouldn't do a damn thing differently."

"Keep tellin' yourself that, Shane. Twenty-four hours from now, you may've changed your mind."

Rick and Daryl took Shane's gun, rope, and duct tape, and left the barn together, leaving T-Dog with his own Glock 17 to start the first shift of guarding Shane.

 


	4. One Day Left To Live

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As his last hours tick by, Shane receives visits from almost everyone in the group; some say good-bye, while others throw a parting shot, giving him bittersweet closure.

_"I paced around for hours on empty_  
_I jumped at the slightest of sounds_  
_And I couldn't stand the person inside me_  
_I turned all the mirrors around"_

-Halsey "Control"

They trickled in to see him, one by one. Sometimes, hours would stretch on before he saw the next person. Other times, they came in right after the other. Such as the case with Dale, Lori, and Carl. When he heard the barn doors open, Shane looked up expectedly, curious about who arrived. Glenn had stopped by several hours ago. Their conversation had been brief, it didn't even last five minutes.

"Just wanted to say good-bye," Glenn had said in a neutral tone. He had stared at the ground, avoiding Shane's eyes. "And to thank you for everything. You were the group's first leader."

A brief smile had lit Shane's face and instantly vanished when he remembered who had taken over his spot. "I appreciate that. Remember to protect you and your own."

"I will." He had nodded, knowing whom Shane referred to: Maggie.

Glenn had left afterwards. Shane figured he was in a rush to get back to Maggie. Not that he blamed Glenn. It was comforting to see someone find love in this hellish world and for it to actually work out for the best. Now he wondered if it was Maggie coming in. He scowled when he saw who it was.

Dale.

The older man came over to where Shane was being held captive. First, he acknowledged Daryl who sat several feet away from Shane, guarding him closely. Daryl had taken over for T-Dog sometime after Glenn had left.

"Hello, Daryl. How're you holding up?"

"Holdin' up jus' fine. You?

"Doing as well as can be given these crazy circumstances."

"Good to hear.

That was the only exchange between Dale and Daryl. Now Dale turned his attention to Shane. Not wanting to see Dale, Shane rolled his eyes and tried to sit comfortably against the wooden post. It was impossible as his entire body ached from being forced to remain in the same position for hours. His arms felt like they would rip out of their sockets if he twisted too much and his fingers were numb.  Still, he would try to act like he was doing fine in this situation. He didn't want to give Dale the satisfaction of seeing him defeated. He said nothing to Dale, but he knew it was only a matter of time before Dale started with him.

"You can't be surprised it's come down to this, Shane."

Shane closed his eyes, not wanting to see him. Dale's presence was enough to send him over the edge. When he opened his eyes, Shane stared past Dale. Past Daryl who sat several feet away, observing their exchange, but not getting involved.

"How else did you expect this to end up?" Dale pressed again.

Shane wished he could make Dale disappear. It was impossible because Dale continued talking to him, although Shane wasn't answering him. And it became apparent that Dale would keep talking to him no matter how long he received the silent treatment. Shane wished he had earplugs so that he wouldn't have to hear him yammer on and on.

"This is a consequence of your choices. My wife always said we can make our choices, but we don't get to choose our consequences. Truer words were never spoken." Dale waited to see if Shane would respond and took it as his cue to continue. "We didn't do this to you--you did this to yourself. Ever since that night with Otis, you've started down this path. I told you once that I know what kind of man you are. The question is, Shane, do _you_ know what kind of man you are?"

The mention of Otis infuriated him and all the times Dale had judged him about that horrible night came rushing back to Shane. He couldn't ignore him anymore, even if he tried.

"SHUT UP, DALE!"

Dale's jaw dropped, shocked from his outburst. He heard Daryl stand up. He glanced over his shoulder and motioned to Daryl that he didn't want him to intervene. Daryl sat down again, but lifted his crossbow to indicate he would do what was needed to subdue Shane in case the situation escalated.

"For once in your life--shut your big mouth! That's all you do is run your stupid mouth about things you don't know about! You weren't there that night! You weren't tryin' to outrun an entire herd of walkers on a sprained ankle with a man who was exhausted and slowin' down!" His words came out in a mad rush--they had waited a long time to be spoken aloud to Dale. "I'll tell you where _you_ were that night-- _you_ were safe in Hershel's home, while me and Otis were out there tryin' to bring back the supplies that would save Carl's life! Self-righteous, Mr. Moral Authority. Always gettin' on your high horse an' preachin' about bullshit that you never experienced."

Shane took a deep breath and then he continued.

"We were so close and yet so far from the truck. They were gainin' on us and we were runnin' out of bullets. There must've been forty or fifty of 'em. Chasin' us through the school, down the hallways, and just when we thought we found an exit, it was locked! They busted open the gates and came after us. Those flares we used distracted them, but only for a short time. We made it to the top of the bleachers and even then, they were tryin' to reach us." Shane was so caught up in his emotions when he relieved what had happened that he didn't realize he was describing the events out of order.

Dale remained still as he listened to the truth of what really happened to Otis and Shane that night.

"Did you know I told him to go on ahead, but that he wouldn't leave me?" Shane's voice cracked. "I would've stayed behind and gave him the supplies to bring back to Carl, but he was too kind-hearted to leave me there. I knew both of us weren't gonna make it.  I was willin' to sacrifice myself, but he was a good man down to the end, helpin' me get back up so we could try to make it back to the truck. Did you know that I shot the walkers that attacked him in the gym? Just like he shot the walkers that cornered me outside the school? I bet you didn't know _any_ of that!"

Dale was quiet for several minutes, but to Shane it felt like an hour had passed between them. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry, Shane--truly, I am. I didn't kn--"

"No! You _didn't_ know! You never even _asked_ me, Dale! You just assumed I left him for dead and that was it!"

Shane waited to see if Dale would respond. Dale didn't and Shane continued.

"You have nothin' to say now that you know how it went down. But go ahead and judge me, Dale. That's what you do best. Do you want a front row seat at my execution? Because I expect to see you there! You'll probably get there first ahead of everyone _._ _'_ _I can't wait to see Shane Walsh get executed for all his crimes!'_ " Shane laughed a joyless laugh and his voice was hoarse.

Dale listened, his expression was solemn. Shane caught his breath and willed himself to calm down. He became quiet and tried to make himself comfortable again. The very act of confronting Dale had wiped him out and now he was exhausted. Then he realized he had more to say to Dale about the entire Otis ordeal.

"You have no idea..." Shane shook his head. His voice was so low that Dale had to move closer to hear him. "You have no idea what it's like seein' someone get devoured alive in front of you...and knowin' that you were the cause of it. Havin' an innocent man's blood on your hands. An' when you go to sleep at night, you see the scene again in your nightmares. Even being awake doesn't guarantee escape from it. Because when you see his wife cryin', your mind flashes back to a moment in your life that you wished you never lived. To a time when you hit your lowest point...and you know there's no going back..."

He hung his head, refusing to face Dale. If Shane had looked up, he would've seen that Dale was staring at the ground, deep in thought. He was silent, but it didn't mean he wasn't taking in what Shane was telling him. At the same time, due to their history, Shane didn't know how to interpret Dale's silence. He continued peeling back the layers of his soul, revealing his mindset, saying everything he needed to say. He would never have the opportunity to do so again after today.

"I know you want to hold onto your morals, Dale. If we lived in the world we used to live in, I'd admire you for that. But when it's your life on the line, or the lives of those you love who're facin' death or worse--and they're dependin' on you...you do what's right for them. You do what keeps them alive. Sometimes that means you do awful things that make you question who you really are, and then you realize this is how it has to be from now on. All it takes is one harrowin' experience of having Death stare you in the face, tauntin' you, tellin' you that you're next, your loved ones are next on his list to visit...an' that you almost lost someone you love because of your mistakes...that's what drives me..."

Shane sighed when he remembered seeing Rick get shot in front of him. In his mind, he didn't keep him safe...it was his fault Rick got shot and ended up hospitalized. He vowed that would _never_ happen again to anyone he loved. He didn't have the heart to tell Dale about that time before the outbreak, and he had said more than enough. Shane swallowed. His throat was parched and he looked briefly in Daryl's direction who was listening to everything, but not interfering. He wanted to ask Daryl for a drink of water, but his pride got the best of him. He turned away, unsure of what to do or say.

A long period of silence followed between both men whose ideologies clashed time and time again.

"Shane."

Shane looked up and saw a soft expression on Dale's face. He almost thought Dale appeared to understand or empathize with him after all this time.

"I take no pleasure or enjoyment for what they're planning to do to you. I want you to know that."

Shane shot him a look of disbelief. "Yeah right--you probably were the first one who voted for Rick to execute me. Or is he makin' all the decisions now and ya'll just follow in line? A Ricktatorship." His laugh was full of bitterness.

Dale didn't respond to Shane's off-handed joke, but he knelt down so that he was level with him. "No, Shane. I voted _against_ it. I may not like you and you may not like me. We may never see eye to eye with each other...but I would not vote for your death. Disagreements or different philosophies on how we live life now doesn't mean we sentence each other to death."

"Tell that to Rick a.k.a. 'Officer Friendly'."

"I tried. I really did--majority rules unfortunately and Andrea and myself were out-voted."

Shane was quiet as he took in what Dale had told him. He met Dale's eyes and Dale met his. For the first time, Shane remembered when they had both agreed with each other. It was a brief moment before the Otis situation and around the time they had lost Sophia. The memory was vague for Shane, but he remembered it had to do with Andrea and the guns, and Dale wanting her to be safe. Shane was glad he was able to pull up a memory of a time when he and Dale got along. He wondered if Dale remembered, but chose not to ask.

"I won't be there when it happens."

Dale took off his bucket hat as a way to show he respected Shane. Shane acknowledged and returned the gesture by nodding at Dale. If they were able to have a tiny ounce of respect for each other after all this time, then this final confrontation was worth it for both men. Dale rose to his feet.

"Take care, Shane."

Shane took a deep breath as he considered what Dale had told him. He knew he could've confronted Dale for what he had revealed to Rick: the time when Shane aimed his shotgun at Rick when his back was turned. For some reason that he couldn't explain, Shane chose to let it go. He couldn't keep being angry at Dale anymore. Although they didn't like each other, it was a relief for them to part on good terms.

"You do the same, Dale."

Dale nodded and then headed towards the entrance of the barn, stopping once to acknowledge Daryl, before finally exiting. Shane watched Dale leave and then closed his eyes in an effort to emotionally process and recuperate from that loaded exchange. He didn't have much time to time to rest as Lori came in moments later. Judging from how quick she came in after Dale, Shane wondered if she had been waiting outside of the barn for him to leave before coming in.

"Shane?"

He stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge her. He heard her call out his name again, and he found a point in the barn to concentrate on. He thought if he tuned her out long enough that she would get the hint and leave. She didn't. Lori knelt down and reached over to caress his cheek.

"I'm sorry for everything, Shane."

He turned his face away from her touch. Lori flinched as though he had burned her skin.

"What the hell do you want, Lori? After all this time, what the hell do you want from me?!"

Lori hesitated at first, and then relaxed as she looked at him. "I want to make amends."

"It's too late for that."

"We both screwed up--"

"And we both screwed _each other_ , but Rick acts like I did it all by myself."

Nearby, Daryl shook his head as he listened in on their conversation. Shane noticed Daryl shaking his head, but decided not to acknowledge it.

Lori grew quiet. She looked around the barn, searching for the right words as though she would find them plastered in the hay or on the walls.

"It's never too late for--"

"For what? To make amends? To say 'sorry'? Newsflash, Lori. Your husband has decided it's time to kill me. You gonna convince him not to do it?"

Lori didn't answer.

"Silence gives consent. So you're on board with it. That's alright. I was tired of your mind games anyway. At least when I'm dead you can't pull me back and forth anymore."

"That's a horrible thing to say," Lori said through clenched teeth. "How dare you..."

"We both know it's true. ' _Stay, Shane_ ,' ' _don't talk to Carl, Shane_ ', ' _stay away from my family_ ', ' _did you tell Rick you were leaving?_ ' Make up your damn mind, Lori!"

"I made up my mind."

There was an edge in her voice, but he ignored it.

"And what was your decision? That it's fun to push me away, pull me back, like a damn yo-yo? That you can keep me in the backburner in case things don't work out for you and Rick? You even denied me the right to parent my own child. Have you forgotten that? ' _Even if it's yours, it's not gonna be yours._ ' Those were your words or have you forgotten that?!"

Lori was quiet as she stared at him. She didn't appeal to him or try to steer him away from what he thought or felt.

"You wanna do somethin' nice for me, Lori? Just leave. Walk out that door and never come back." He motioned towards the barn's entrance. "Leave me alone for good. Stop comin' back to me, actin' like you care. Because you don't. I know I messed up. I made my share of mistakes with you and I accept that. Somehow, you have amnesia or selective memory--hell, I don't know what it is with you. But you like to forget your part in all this. You forget how I put my neck out for you, for Carl, and for Rick, time and time again."

"I know that!" Lori snapped, finally responding. "I told you that you didn't think anything of yourself when you picked up me and Carl when all hell broke loose. I thanked you for that at the windmill. Maybe I'm not the only one with ' _selective memory_ '."

"When I got you and Carl out of Atlanta...when I went to get supplies to make sure Carl lived to see another day," Shane paused, thinking over what he was about to say and decided to push through. "When I tried to get Rick out of the hospital--"

"You failed and lied about it." The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

His body quaked with rage. If he wasn't tied up, he would've struck her across the face. He never imagined hitting a woman until now. He never thought he would hate Lori so much, especially after everything that had happened between them.

"I did the damn best that I could for him." The calmness in his voice didn't betray the huge anger he felt. "You weren't there, we would've both been killed. Ever think about that? Where would that have left you and Carl? It doesn't matter what I say. You'll believe whatever you want as long as it erases your guilt about what happened between us."

Lori swallowed nervously. Shane now looked her straight in the eyes.

"You set me and Rick against each other."

"No, I didn't." Lori shook her head furiously. "I would _never_ do that, Shane! You and him are best friends..." She looked away from him, too angry to face him now.

"You said it yourself when you came to me at the windmill. ' _I made a mess of things, set you and Rick against each other_ '. That happened not even twenty-four hours ago. Maybe two days ago, at most. You should get your head checked."

"I was apologizing to you for everything."

"Really? Better late than never." Shane made sure the sarcasm in his voice was thick.

Lori gathered her thoughts. She still wouldn't face him and he did likewise. At one time, he had considered her to be the most beautiful woman. Now he couldn't stand the sight of her. More silence passed and Shane gave her a grace period. When she started to speak again, he cut her off.

"Now that Rick has decided to put a bullet in my brain, are you glad? I bet you're relieved, Lori."

"About what?"

"That you can bury your mistake so it won't haunt you."

Lori's jaw dropped as she now turned to Shane, shocked by his words. Tears flowed down her cheeks and her lips trembled.

"I remember the day Rick got shot. I should've listened to what Rick said about you--about how horrible you were to him in front of Carl--your own son! You asked him if he even cared about his family!  The man risks his life every day to provide for you and your son and that's how you thank him. Why I didn't see it then, I don't know."

"Shane, you...I can't believe..." Lori faltered with her words. She raised her hand mid-air as though to strike him.

"What, Lori?" Shane glanced at her hand and then met her eyes. "What is it?!"

Lori let her hand drop to her lap and she rose to her feet. "I'm sorry for whatever happened between us--whatever it was." She choked out the last three words and her voice quivered.

Shane was unmoved. He refused to comfort her or look at her. He bowed his head and stared at the ground, remembering everything that happened with him and Lori. His mind flashed to memories of how amazing he felt when they first made love, to her cold rejection when Rick had returned. He had felt discarded, thrown aside, as though he were a plastic utensil that had been used up. He stayed like that until she finally left him and he heard her leave through the barn doors. _Good riddance,_ he thought.

"You got more lovin' comin' your way," Daryl said. He gestured towards Carl who came into the barn as soon as Lori left. "You get no breaks."

"Nope, none." Another bittersweet laugh almost erupted from Shane, but he managed to stifle it in time, just as Carl sat down next to him.

"I had to see you one last time...before you know..." Carl hesitated. He looked everywhere around the barn, as though trying to avoid eye contact with Shane.

"You can look me in the eye, Carl. I'm not gonna bite," he paused as he thought about what he would say next. "I'm not a walker." It was morbid humor, but Shane needed to laugh about something. His death was approaching and he had no other way to deal with the increasing pressure of it being a public and humiliating execution.

Carl looked at Shane, his expression a mix of fear and sadness. "I have to tell you something," he said, inching closer.

"Go on, Shane's listenin'."

Carl looked around again, glanced over at Daryl, and then leaned close to Shane. "I did it."

Shane's eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Did what? Spit it out, Carl."

"I killed my first walker yesterday. It was in the swamp, trapped in the mud. Dad doesn't know about it. You taught me how to shoot, remember?"

Shane smiled broadly. "To protect yourself and those you love." He nodded to show he approved of Carl's actions.

"Yeah, and If I hadn't shot it; it would've killed me or someone in the group. You taught me that, Shane. Not my Dad," he mumbled the last part under his breath as though he didn't want Shane to hear.

Shane heard what Carl had said, but pretended he didn't hear anything. Then he thought better of it. "You better tell your Dad what you did."

Carl pulled back and looked stricken. "He'll get mad at me--I can't tell him!"

"Carl, listen to me..." Shane met his eyes and held them. He saw that Carl was listening. "Your Dad's gonna need you, especially as you get older, okay? He's gonna rely on you, get your thoughts on what's goin' on. You gotta be his right-hand man. He needs to know that his son ain't a little boy anymore, but a young man who can take care of himself no matter what situations you both face together. He needs to know that he did his job as a father to raise you into the man you'll become. Go back and tell him. Stop keepin' secrets from him."

"And stop tryin' to get myself killed?" Carl asked.

Shane laughed and for the first time today, he could honestly say his laugh was genuine and full of warmth. "Yes, especially that."

Carl found himself laughing too and covered his mouth so that he wouldn't make too much noise. Then he became serious again. "You taught me a lot, Shane. Like how to tie knots. Remember?"

"Is this your handiwork?" Shane motioned with his head at the knots that bound his wrists, waist, and legs. "'Cause if it is, you did a damn good job at putting to practice what I taught you."

Carl's eyes widened, he was horrified. "No, I wouldn't do that to you."

"Hey, hey, I was only jokin' around," Shane reassured him. "And frogs, Carl. Now you know how to catch frogs."

Carl grinned, remembering all their times together. Tying knots, catching frogs, learning how to shoot a gun.

"You make your father proud. He always talked about how good you were doing in school before the world went to hell."

"He did?" Carl sounded surprised.

"Of course he did! You're his favorite person in the entire world. And I have to say you make me proud, too, Carl. You always have."

Carl nodded. He felt overwhelmed to have this final time with the man he loved as family and didn't know what else to say. To make up for his lack of words, he leaned over and hugged Shane.

"Thanks, Carl. I need all the love I can get."

"You're welcome, Shane."

Carl stood up to leave and stopped. He realized in ending this conversation, it meant he would never speak with Shane again. He smiled weakly at Shane, unsure of what to do.

"You can go, Carl...I'll be okay."

Carl hesitated and glanced one more time at Shane. Shane nodded at him, giving him permission to leave. He watched as Carl walked away slowly. When Carl got to the barn's doors, he looked back one more time...and then left for good.

Shane watched as Carl left the barn and fought against the tears threatening to fall. One tear escaped and slid down his cheek. He closed his eyes, squeezing tightly, willing himself not to break down. The moment passed and he breathed a sigh of relief. He was in control again. Or as much control as he could have, given his current and future circumstances. He looked up when he saw Daryl approaching him, holding his crossbow.

"That kid loves you," Daryl observed. "You love him, too."

Shane nodded. "He's not mine, but I adore that kid."

Daryl was silent for a moment as though contemplating what to say next. Then it came to him. "It's a shame it's come down to this." He gestured at Shane, once the leader of the Atlanta group, now bound and helpless, waiting for his last moment on earth.

"Me too, but you're Rick's wingman now." Shane shrugged and glared at Daryl, not afraid to show his contempt.

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "You mad about that?"

Shane didn't bother to reply.

"I have my answer. I'll tell you this much: if you weren't such a dick, then maybe you'd still be Rick's right-hand man!" Daryl pointed accusingly at Shane. "Sittin' there, sulkin' like I stole your spot, when you readily gave it up with all your drama bullshit."

"But you're enjoyin' it, right? Finally got the respect you wanted?" Shane smirked.

"I don't need your respect or anyone else's," Daryl snapped. "You think I waste tears worryin' about what _you_ think of _me_?" He gestured at Shane with his crossbow when he said "you". "Get the hell over yourself. Someone here has an inferiority complex, and it ain't me."

"I love myself every time I look in the mirror." Shane knew the opposite was true.

"Keep believin' your own lies. Jus' so we're clear: I didn't ask for this."

"Me neither."

Shane couldn't stand to face Daryl anymore, so he found another point in the barn to focus on. Daryl caught on quickly and stepped in Shane's path, forcing him to continue the conversation.

"You lay claim to everythin'--your best friend's wife, his son, and now Rick himself. That's what has you mad. Callin' me his 'wingman'--wow, a grown-ass man actin' jealous."

"That ain't jealousy from me, man. Just plain hard truth."

"You call me trash, but have you looked in the mirror lately? Done some soul searchin'? What kind of man screws his best friend's wife? I'll tell you who..a lowlife selfish asshole who doesn't honor the Bro Code."

Shane drew in his breath and exhaled slowly as he glared at Daryl. Both men knew Daryl had hit Shane below the belt with his last statement. It was the second time he had brought it up to Shane. Instead of Shane defending what happened with Lori, he remained silent. Daryl gave Shane less than a minute to recuperate and then finished him off.

"No one told you to sneak into the barn to kill Randall. You're too damn hot-headed for your own good." Daryl shook his head as he remembered all the times Shane had lost his temper--not only with him, but with Rick and the rest of the group. "You got the right ideas, but the wrong approach. It can't always be your way, Shane. 'Cause that shit don't fly. It's not all about you, but you wanted to make it be your way or the highway." He stood over Shane now. "That's why you're tied up right now, and that's why you're gonna die. Dale was right: your choices, your consequences. Deal with it."

Daryl stormed off, leaving Shane to mull over if he was the reason for his own downfall.

**oOo**

Shane didn't know how much time had passed when Andrea came in to see him. He figured it couldn't be too long from the time Daryl had told him off, since T-Dog hadn't arrived yet to relieve him.

"Hi," Andrea said, kneeling down next to him.

"Hey."

"I can't believe they're doing this to you."

"Well, they are. Can't cry over it."

Shane looked at Andrea and then at the far wall. He wanted to avoid everyone who came by to see him, although he had no choice, but to accept their visits. It wasn't that he didn't want to see Andrea. He was glad she had shown up, but he didn't want to be reminded of the missed opportunity to leave the farm with her.

"I just wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"You taught me how to shoot a gun, disassemble it; put it together again."

Shane met her eyes now and tried not to let her sadness affect him. "No need to thank me. You always had it in you, Andrea. You just had to believe in yourself."

Andrea nodded as she crept closer to Shane. She glanced over her shoulder at Daryl, who was watching everything. "I need to tell you something," she whispered.

"What's that?" He whispered back. Shane looked past Andrea and saw Daryl rise from the chair.

"I'm going to free you. You can come with me and leave these people to rot in hell."

Shane shook his head. "Don't be stupid. The rest of the group will turn on you."

"They already have. When..." she hesitated, but then gathered the courage to continue. "When Rick was having the vote of what to do with you...Dale and I voted against your execution. Everyone else voted for it. I know Glenn felt guilty about it, he left the house as soon as it was over. Carl wasn't there, so I don't think he'd vote for you to die at his father's hand...I'm glad he wasn't there for that, but still."

"Everyone..."

The word dragged out of Shane's mouth, refusing to cooperate. He couldn't believe it. Glenn. Hershel. Maggie. Carol. Daryl. T-Dog. Rick. Lori. He wondered if there was anyone he was forgetting...Jimmy? Patricia? And the fact that Dale _had_ actually advocated for him not to die--he had been honest with Shane. Shane didn't know which shocked him more: that the rest of the group had no issue with him being killed or that Dale had actually stood up for his right to live. And now he knew why Glenn had left so quickly and wouldn't look him in the eye when he had stopped by earlier.

"I can't stay in this group anymore." Tears slipped from her eyes and she wiped them away quickly as though she didn't want him to see her raw emotions. "You should've seen how ugly it got."

"Don't need to be there to witness it. I can imagine it plenty." Shane's back stiffened against the wooden post. He wondered how long he had before Rick came back to take him to the site of his execution. "What time is it?"

Andrea looked at Shane strangely, not understanding the question. "Half past four."

"Okay." He didn't have a lot of time left. Or maybe it just felt that way.

"I did the best I could for you...I fought for you."

"I believe you." Shane was quiet for a moment as he thought about everything she had told him. "Thank you." He tried to keep his voice emotionless.

"They had it where you were guilty until proven innocent."

"It is what it is." He shrugged. "I know where I stand on everythin'. If they want to believe the worst about me, then let them."

Neither of them spoke for some time. Shane stared at the ground and Andrea picked at her nails. Then she looked at him.

"I meant what I said."

"About what?" He looked at her now, unsure of what she referred to.

"About leaving, Shane. I'm not staying with this group anymore."

Shane shook his head. "Bad idea. You should stay here, it's safe. There's no tellin' what's out there."

"I can handle myself!" She didn't mean to sound angry, but it came out anyway. "You taught me how to shoot walkers, and now you're acting like I'm a helpless little girl?!"

"Not talkin' about walkers, Andrea. Talkin' about other threats...the livin'. There's no tellin' who or what's out there, and what they're capable of doin' to you, especially if you're out there by yourself."

"You've gotta be kidding me."

"I'm not." He looked directly at her now, holding her eyes that brimmed with tears. "Stop cryin'. I'm bein' honest with you. You're better off stayin' here with the group, on this farm, where you have safety and shelter--"

"Where they leave you to hang if you don't follow Rick's every whim!" She lashed out at him, frustrated and confused by his trying to talk her into staying. Why was Shane insisting she stay after the group had sentenced him to death? She was about to ask him this when she saw his shocked expression. For a moment, Shane looked lost and afraid.

"Hang? They're _hangin'_ me?" He looked up at the barn's rafters. He shuddered when he imagined being executed in such a humiliating way. He didn't want to imagine it, although it was too late. When working with Rick, they had come across a deceased person who had committed suicide by hanging...Shane prided himself on having thick skin, but there was something terrifying about seeing a human being swaying and hanging from a rope with their neck broken..."I can't believe Rick would..." He bit his lower lip so hard that it bled. He couldn't finish his thoughts.

Andrea followed his gaze and realized what he thought she meant. "No, Shane...no...they're not gonna hang you...I'm sorry. It was a bad choice of words."

"Sure." He didn't believe her.

"They won't do that. I know he won't do it that way. Look at me...please?"

Shane looked at her now and she was shocked to see fear flickering in his eyes. He tried to hide it, but it was there.

"I just meant...that I don't feel safe with them. How can I stay with them after what they did to you? I don't feel safe with them at all."

"What they did to me didn't happen to you. You gotta separate the two, Andrea. Stop this bullshit and stay put. Don't go out there...if somethin' happens to you, that'll be another thing they pin on me. An' I won't be aroun' to keep you safe."

"So it's about you now?" Andrea felt her anger mounting again, and then she made herself calm down. Shane meant well. "I'm sorry...I don't mean to..."

"It's fine...I'll be fine...I don't know about you, but I'll be fine..."

Andrea thought he was trying to convince himself.

"You wanted to leave, remember?" She decided to go that route.

"You throwin' that back in my face? What's that have to do with you being a fool and leavin' a place that gives you a roof over your head?!" He was furious at her now. "Don't get the two confused. Me leavin' before any of this happened and _you_ wantin' to leave now is not the same thing. Two different circumstances."

"Okay, but I can't promise you I'll stay."

"If you gonna go, just make sure you protect yourself...that's all I can say." He shrugged again and winced. Having his arms stretched above his head for so many hours was painful. "I have to face whatever comes my way. I have no choice, Andrea. You have a choice. If you're gonna leave, then be smart about it. Protect yourself."

"Fair enough."

"If it's my time to go...then it's my time to go."

Andrea sighed. She wished he wasn't so accepting of his fate, but she didn't tell him this. There were other things she needed to tell him. "It's time for me to say good-bye to you, Shane, and to thank you for everything you did...for the group...and for me. You know what you're doing. Rick..." she shook her head. "He's gonna get us all killed. He doesn't listen to reason, he goes on his emotions."

"You're preachin' to the choir, as I told you once before."

Andrea nodded in agreement. Then she looked at Shane again, her stare more intense than before. "There's one more thing." In one swift movement, she rose and sat down on Shane's legs, attempting to straddle him.

"Hey!" Daryl called out. "What the hell?!"

Shane grimaced when she sat down. The first wave of pain subsided and his muscles tingled. He tried to shift so that he was comfortable, but it was difficult with Andrea sitting on him, and with his legs being tied together for so long.

"Does this feel familiar?"

Andrea's voice had lowered to a seductive tone as she leaned in closer to him. Before Shane could respond, her lips met his and she kissed him with as much passion as she could muster. He was surprised to find himself returning the kiss, his lips joining with hers as they both fully allowed themselves to be immersed with each other. It was a much needed escape and release from all the tension he had felt all day. Her lips were soft and she tasted like mint and strawberries. He thought she was delicious and wondered why he had wasted so much time on Lori.

The moment was over as quickly as it started.

Daryl grabbed Andrea by the back of her blouse and yanked her off Shane. "Time to go, Bonnie. That's enough of makin' out with Clyde."

"What the hell's wrong with you, Daryl?!" Andrea whipped around angrily at him, pushing him off her. "He's gonna die, he has the right to enjoy something as simple as a kiss!"

"He doesn't get to have one last romp in the hay. Take it up with Rick if you don't like it."

Andrea shook her head as she stood up. "You're just as ridiculous as Rick is."

"And a cockblocker. Add that to your list of accomplish--" Daryl slammed a backhanded fist across Shane's face mid-sentence.

"Shut your mouth, Shane. There's the door, Andrea." He pointed at the barn's doors. "Make sure it don't hit you on the way out."

Andrea's chest heaved up and down as she caught her breath. "This confirms everything. I'm leaving tonight, Daryl. And yes, you can tell the Big Bad Boss all about how I'm abandoning the group."

"I'm not gonna beg you to stay. Do what's right for you," Daryl said.

"Take some guns with you," Shane called out to her as she headed towards the barn's doors. "Protect yourself and remember what I taught you."

Andrea nodded and from where he sat, Shane saw a tear sliding down her cheek. Then she was gone and the door banged loudly behind her. It was Daryl and Shane now.

"An' to think, you used to chase down the bad guys," Daryl said, shaking his head. "I bet you were the bad cop, and Rick was the good cop."

"Somethin' like that." Shane licked his lips, still tasting the strawberry flavor from Andrea's lips and his own coppery blood from where Daryl had punched him. "I've always been the bad cop." He busted out laughing as Daryl resumed his spot to guard him.

**oOo**

"Glad you're here," Daryl said. "This shift was non-stop."

"He gave you a hard time?" T-Dog asked, pointing at Shane.

"You got Andrea playin' Bonnie to Shane's Clyde--kissin' and carryin' on like two horny teenagers."

"What?!" T-Dog was genuinely shocked.

"Yeah, she's leavin' the group. That's her story. Fine by me. Shane, she needs a better teacher than you--she can't aim worth a damn!" Daryl called over to Shane who watched them. He was referring to the time when Andrea accidentally shot him when she mistook him for a walker.

"So teach her to use a crossbow," Shane replied. "She'll aim right and shoot you dead in your face."

T-Dog started towards Shane to retaliate on Daryl's behalf when Daryl stopped him.

"He's scared shitless, T-Dog. That's why he's runnin' his mouth. Can't run the group no more, so he's gotta run something."

T-Dog nodded. "You're on point about that."

"Good luck, brother," Daryl said. "I'll see you in four hours."

"Four hours is right."

"By then, I think we'll take our man to meet his Maker."

T-Dog nodded as he watched Daryl leave the barn. Then he approached Shane with caution. T-Dog knew he had nothing to be afraid of. A bound Shane was a helpless Shane; he couldn't do anything to harm anyone. Still, T-Dog didn't want to take unnecessary risks. He just wanted to see if Shane needed anything.

"Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

"Nope."

"You gotta eat something."

"Man, stop pretendin' you care. You're just like the rest of them--sentencin' a man to death for tryin' to do the right thing."

T-Dog's eyebrows rose. "Ahhh, so that's what this is about...you thought you were doing the right thing by taking Randall's life into your own hands."

"Damn right and it's not that I _thought_ I was doing the right thing. I _know_ I was," Shane said, his eyes meeting T-Dog's.

"I'm not here to debate that with you. Last time: do you want something to eat or drink?"

"You'd lace whatever you'd give me with poison. Arsenic. Rick's orders."

"He doesn't want to kill you." T-Dog realized a moment too late what he had said.

Shane laughed, but it sounded more like an odd croaking sound. "Are you kiddin' me? He's executin' me tonight in front of everyone! And it's not just about Randall...it's personal."

"What I meant was it's not out of malice.  You're dangerous, Shane--you weren't always like this, but now you are. And I was asking if you wanted something to eat or drink because you've been here for hours. I'm sure your stomach is grumbling and that your throat is parched."

Shane blinked. T-Dog was right, but he refused to give in. He wanted to have some form of control since he had none in this situation. His hunger strike gave him some semblance of having control over himself and his captors: Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog.

"You're just like the rest of them, T-Dog," Shane repeated. "Votin' for me to die."

T-Dog was quiet as he stared at the ground. Shane took that to mean he was acknowledging the fact that he had voted for his execution. T-Dog took a deep breath and continued.

"I never got in your face about Otis. In fact, I figured out what you did and _why_ you did it. I get it, Shane."

Shane's eyebrows rose in surprise. He appeared touched that someone understood him. Maybe he had _two_ allies: Andrea and T-Dog... Then he looked away, refusing to face T-Dog.

"Not everyone's against you, but you pushed everyone away. You gotta own that."

"I don't have to own a thin dime. Folks here are livin' in Fantasy Land and it's gonna cost them."

T-Dog sighed, frustrated. "Whatever you say. You can't say that I didn't try."

"You can talk about how you understand what I did, but you're just like the rest of them. Delusional. Hopeful. Idea-fuckin'-listic. Good luck after I'm gone."

T-Dog didn't answer as he took a seat on the stool opposite of Shane to guard him for the next four hours.

**oOo**

It wasn't long before Shane received another visitor during T-Dog's shift. This time it was Hershel who came into the barn. Hershel had a way of making a quiet entrance. Even his brief greeting to T-Dog was soundless before he turned his attention to Shane. Despite his soft façade, Hershel was hardened towards Shane.

"It's fitting that you'll die on my farm, considering you carried out the execution of my family. Unless Rick decides to take you elsewhere to do it," Hershel said, as he approached Shane. "An eye for an eye."

"Makes the whole world blind," Shane finished. "Did I break any of the Ten Commandments?"

"Two," Hershel replied quickly, as though expecting this question and already having an answer. " _Thou shalt not murder_ and _thou shalt not covet_."

"Covet?"

"To want or yearn for something, especially if it isn't yours. In this case, your best friend's wife. _You shall not covet your neighbor's house. You shall not covet your neighbor's wife, or his male or female servant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor._ That's in the Book of Exodus."

Shane tried to stifle a chuckle. As with his previous visitors, Shane tried to avoid looking at Hershel. He stared at the ground. "Ahhh, I'm a real sinner, huh? Gonna burn in hell for lustin' after Lori."

"Don't mock God or His commandments." Hershel said, his tone serious.

"Wasn't it Jesus who said don't judge others? Or that those without sin cast the first stone?"

Hershel blinked, surprised what Shane had brought up. He decided to use this moment to put his personal feelings aside, and focus on what Shane was saying.

"Yes, Jesus said that; those were His teachings." Hershel paused as he thought about what he would ask next and the possible answer he would receive. "Do you feel we're judging you, Shane?"

When Shane looked up at Hershel, his eyes were glassy. "All the time."

"By who?" Hershel realized that by standing over Shane, it communicated the wrong message. He sat down across from Shane, in the hopes that it demonstrated his willingness to hear him out.

"You, for starters. Dale, all the time. That guy probably sat on a judge's bench and locked up a teenager for chewing gum in school. But he made nice with me, so I'm good with him now--sort of. By Rick..." Shane became choked up. "All the time by Rick.  Judges and has no clue about how things really are now."

Hershel nodded, his expression was contemplative. "Do you want me to pray for you?"

Shane thought he was mocking him at first, and then realized Hershel was genuine. He shook his head. "No, but I appreciate the thought, Hershel. Don't pray for me...pray for those left behind after I die."

"Well...the Bible tell us that man looks on the outside, but God knows the inner heart of all of us. God knows where you are with this situation and He's with you right now. He knows your heart. I hope that gives you comfort."

Shane looked at Hershel, shocked by the grace and warmth he received from the older man. He didn't expect Hershel to advocate for his life to be saved, but he was still appreciative of the mercy that Hershel extended to him after everything that had happened.

"Thank you." He meant it.

They were quiet for some time.

"Where's Maggie and Beth? Jimmy?" Shane broke the silence. He was afraid to ask about the next person, but he had to: "Patricia?"

"I'm standing in proxy for Maggie and Jimmy. Patricia...she doesn't have the heart to face you. I'm sure you understand."

Shane nodded. He did, although he had a gut feeling she would be present later tonight. He wasn't angry about that. If anything, he felt by having her there to witness his execution, it would be his way of paying penance for what he had done to Otis.

"My doodle-bug is lying down."

"Doodle-bug?" Shane asked, unsure of whom Hershel meant.

"Beth, my daughter."

"Oh."

And just like that, it hit Shane that he would never live to see his baby. For some reason he had a feeling that Lori was carrying his daughter, a little girl. He would never get to hold her, rock her to sleep, or give her cute pet names. He would never experience that special bond between a father and daughter. Shane swallowed, fighting back emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. The moment passed and he was in control again.

"She had a breakdown after the barn incident...seeing her mother get shot and then attack her as a walking corpse...it was too much for her to handle," Hershel said, softly. Despite the situation, there was no hint of anger in his voice. He was calm as he relayed to Shane about Beth's current condition. "She's been laying down in bed, resting for several days now. Maggie's always been the stronger of the two. The tougher one. Bethy is more sensitive, I'm not sure if she gets it from me or her mother."

Although Shane believed he had made the right decision to eliminate the walkers from Hershel's barn, he was sincerely regretful that his actions had led to Beth being depressed and bedbound. He knew he had to acknowledge that some harm came from what he had done, however well-meaning his intentions were.

"I hope she gets better. I'm sorry about the barn...they were your family and friends. I didn't know until now about your daughter..."

"You didn't think of the ramifications when you busted open my barn. I don't think any of us did. Then again, if I had accepted what was happening in the world when everything first started, then maybe Beth would've accepted it, too. We all played a part."

"You're right about that." Shane appreciated that he and Hershel were able to openly admit their failings.

"You meant well, Shane. I had to see the situation for what it is. Thank you." He meant it.

Shane watched as Hershel stood up. He nodded to Hershel and Hershel returned the gesture. Hershel briefly waved to T-Dog who returned the greeting. Then he left the barn as quietly as he had entered.

Shane closed his eyes, trying to rest. All of these past conversations had worn him down emotionally, although another part of him was thankful they had taken place. It gave him a sense of closure.

"Here, Shane."

Shane opened his eyes and glanced at T-Dog who held a bottled water in front of him. There was a straw inside it. His first instinct was to turn away from it, to carry on with his hunger strike, and pretend he had control. He knew he could be stubborn, but by now, he realized it was better to give in and accept the water. In doing so, it would help him to accept what lay ahead. He didn't know why that was. Plus, he was thirsty, his throat ached, and his mouth was dry and prickly as though he had swallowed sandpaper. When T-Dog gestured with the water a second time, Shane accepted it and took a quick sip.

**oOo**

Carol was the last one to show up. Daryl accompanied her into the barn, but gave her privacy when it came time for her to speak with Shane. He hung back with T-Dog, watching their exchange, but not interfering.

"It was a difficult decision to make...I hope you're not mad at me."

By now, Shane knew what she referred to. The vote. His execution.

"I ain't mad at you, Carol."

"Thank you for..." she hesitated, and when she spoke again, tears choked her voice. "...for protecting me...that time against Ed."

Shane looked at her now, remembering when he beat the hell out of Ed. Ed had struck her across the face in front of Andrea, Amy, and Jacqui. It wasn't the first time he had done it, but Shane wanted to ensure it was the last time he did it. Shane was honest with himself: some of his anger was displaced onto Ed after the way Lori had cut him off from Carl moments before. At the same time, he had seen Ed abuse Carol and Sophia before--and no one had done anything about it. So at the rock quarry, Shane decided it was time to teach Ed a lesson that he would never forget: let him be the abused one and see how it feels.

"It's no problem. Someone had to put him in line--I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner."

"I know...I just wanted to thank you for that...and to say I'm sorry."

"What're you sorry about?"

"This!" Carol gestured at Shane. "I'm sorry for all this."

"You didn't do any of this, Carol." Shane shook his head. "You have nothin' to be sorry about."

After all this time, Carol still had the mindset of a battered woman. She blamed herself for things she didn't do and even for things that hadn't happened yet. She was passive, expressing defeat, and accepting responsibility for actions that she hadn't done or been involved with.

Shane was familiar with Battered Women's Syndrome from his experience as a sheriff's deputy. Breaking up domestic disputes were extremely difficult since the victim usually didn't want the abuser to be arrested and go to jail--even if their life depended on it. They usually blamed themselves for the abuser's violent outbursts. Often times, the woman was emotionally beaten down from verbal abuse before it had escalated into physical and sexual violence. It was horrendous for the victim, and difficult for Shane to exercise self-control in those situations, especially when all he wanted to do was slap the cuffs on the abusive spouse and throw him in a jail cell, and get the victim to a shelter for her protection. He felt the same way during the rare times when it was a woman beating up a man, or violence between same-sex partners.

This time, _he_ was the one that everyone considered dangerous, and the group's shelter was Hershel's farm. It saddened him that Carol would blame herself for his current predicament, when it had been himself--and no one else--who went into the barn to shoot Randall.

"Carol, listen: I know you've been through hell with Ed--with finding out about Sophia..."

He paused as he remembered Sophia shambling out of the barn as a walker. Even he had been shocked into silence at that exact moment. The only way he had been able to make amends to Carol was to wash her hands and tell her he had no idea Sophia was in there and that his intentions were to keep everyone safe. He didn't mean to further traumatize her when he opened the barn and Sophia was revealed to be there--dead and turned into a walker.

And he didn't want her to be increasingly traumatized by accepting responsibility for his execution when it was not her fault. She may've voted in favor for it, but in the end, Shane knew it was his own actions--justified or not--that had led to where he was now, and where he would be in a few hours: dead at Rick's hands.

"I want you to know that you are stronger than you think you are, Carol. You are tougher than nails, you just don't know it yet. You got it in you--let it out," Shane spoke earnestly to her, hoping that his words were sinking in. "Maybe you won't see that side of you develop for quite some time, but it's in there, you got it. Do whatever it takes to survive. Don't hold back for anyone."

Carol nodded as she listened attentively to Shane.

"If making a split-second decision means your survival and those you love live to see another minute, another hour, another day--then do it, Carol. And when you're done with it, don't waste time feeling bad, blaming or beating up on yourself. I once told Rick that survival means making hard choices. There's truth to that, but you do whatever it takes to live to see another day. Okay?"

Carol nodded again and wiped a tear running down her cheek. "I understand."

"Good." Shane breathed a sigh of relief, glad that he was able to share that with her.

"Thank you, Shane, for everything."

"You don't have to thank me," he paused as a thought came to his mind. "You thank me by making the choice that keeps you alive. Got it?"

"Got it." Carol smiled. She walked back to stand with Daryl and turned around to Shane one more time. _Thank you,_ she mouthed.

Shane nodded to acknowledge he had received her gratitude. This was it. There was no one else left to see. He decided he would try to get some rest and mentally prepare for what was soon to come. As he did so, he couldn't help but overhear the conversation between Daryl and T-Dog.

"Rick wants to speak with us," Daryl said.

"About him?" T-Dog asked.

"Yeah."

"Didn't Rick want one of us to stay with him at all times?"

"He ain't goin' anywhere. Rick said to meet him outside."

T-Dog nodded and left the barn with Daryl and Carol.

As they exited the barn and he heard the doors close behind them, it was then that Shane realized only one person hadn't shown up.

He ran through his mind of who had shown up and the order of their arrival: Glenn was probably with Maggie. Dale was off somewhere on the farm. Lori was with Rick, most likely. Carl was probably wandering off on his own again. Andrea might've left the farm already. Hershel had stood in place for Maggie, Beth, and Jimmy. Hershel was the girls' father, so he figured they were present in that way. Patricia was full of emotion and Shane realized she was the one person he didn't want to face, since he had lied to her about what really happened to Otis. Carol was the last one to come see him. Shane imagined Randall running free in the sunset, hollering and whooping that he had been set free to join his gang of trouble-making friends. So who was the one person who didn't show up?

Rick.

Rick didn't show up because he had already said everything he needed to say.

Now Shane had only one choice:

Wait to die.


	5. The Execution of Shane Walsh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The time for Shane's execution has arrived and he gives his final warning to the group, but it does not deter Rick from carrying out his sentence.

_"_ _Good Lord give me peace  
From life long of pain and greed but not yet  
I'm not done payin' for my crimes"_

-Alison Mosshart "Bad Blood"—The Walking Dead S5-E6

Rick returned later that evening with T-Dog and Daryl.

Shane was left by himself for a short time, but now they were back. He turned in their direction when they entered the barn, knowing what was to come within the hour. He figured Rick wanted to review with them how the execution would go. Shane sighed inwardly. He was thankful that Rick wasn't cruel to the point of actually having that dark conversation in front of him. If anything, Rick had kept his word and allowed Shane to have twenty-four hours to live.

"Untie his wrists, T-Dog. Once you have his hands tied behind his back, we'll undo the ropes around his legs. Daryl, keep your crossbow trained on him. Take the tips off your bolts. If he makes any move to fight or resist, shoot him in the face. We're not taking chances with him."

Shane felt like Rick had thrown a bucket of Arctic cold water over him. Rick spoke about him as though he were completely invisible, or worse yet, dead already. And he had more mercy on Randall. He noticed when Daryl and T-Dog exchanged an uneasy glance after Rick finished giving his orders. They were shocked by Rick's brutality and probably knew this wasn't just about Randall. This was personal. Even so, it wasn't enough for them to disagree with Rick or stand by Shane's side. Instead, they nodded in agreement and followed Rick's commands. Shane looked up as T-Dog started undoing the knots that bound his wrists. He then looked in front of him and saw Daryl aiming his crossbow directly in his face.

"Where are we taking him?" T-Dog asked as he worked on a knot.

"Out to the field," Rick said. "Plenty of space. Wide and open."

Shane allowed T-Dog to finish untying him. There was a sudden movement by the entrance of the barn. T-Dog was focused on undoing the knots and Daryl had his crossbow trained on Shane. Rick watched everything impassively. Shane looked in the direction of the barn's entrance and saw Andrea quickly step in. She held a finger to her lips, indicating for him to keep quiet.

_"_ _Good-bye, Shane,"_ she mouthed.

He nodded in acknowledgement. She was gone just as quickly as she had entered the barn. As he watched a snippet of her blonde hair disappear behind the door, he wondered about what could've been if he had left with her when he had the chance. He mentally kicked himself for not leaving with her sooner. _Can't waste time cryin' over what never happened,_ Shane thought. He swallowed nervously, allowing himself to grieve the missed opportunity to be with someone who understood him. The pangs of sadness came and went in a matter of seconds. Shane's jaw tightened in determination.

Rick noticed Shane was distracted and turned in time to see Andrea leave. He didn't say anything about it, although a clenched fist betrayed he felt frustrated at whatever unspoken exchange Shane and Andrea just had with each other. Then he turned his attention to the man sitting in front of him.

Shane and Rick stared each other down, never speaking a word to each other.

T-Dog finally finished untying Shane's hands. It had taken longer than expected. He tossed the ropes to the ground. Shane started wringing his wrists that were bruised and cut open in certain areas. The rope burn seared his wrists and he didn't want to imagine what it had done to his waist and his legs.

"Put them behind your back," Rick ordered, speaking directly to him for the first time since returning with Daryl and T-Dog.

Shane did as he was told and glowered at Rick the entire time. Rick glared back at him, matching the animosity that Shane sent his way.

T-Dog looped the rope around Shane's wrists and pulled tight. He made several knots. "That's done." He started untying the ropes around Shane's waist, then his legs, starting with the bonds around the thighs, and eventually making his way to the calves.

"Don't try anything stupid, Shane," Rick said. "If you do, Daryl gives you a bolt to the throat."

Daryl gave a curt nod and now aimed his crossbow at Shane's throat.

T-Dog finished untying Shane's legs. "Check it, Rick," he said, gesturing to Shane's bound hands.

Rick knelt behind Shane and tugged at the ropes. Sturdy and strong. "Perfect. Let's get him on his feet. You get the left side, I'll get the right side."

Together, Rick and T-Dog lifted Shane, so that he was standing against the wooden post. His legs almost gave way under him. Shane was unsteady after sitting for a full day with his legs tied together.

"I need to stretch my legs," he said, stretching his left leg and then his right leg. They were stiff with cramps.

"You don't need to do anything except stand there and keep your mouth shut," Rick said, taking out the duct tape. He tore off a piece and planted it on Shane's mouth. "I'm not givin' you a free pass to bite and spit at us. T-Dog, hold him in place."

T-Dog steadied Shane, so that he was standing more comfortably. "You got it?" He asked Shane.

Shane nodded silently.

"One last thing," Rick said. He held up a blindfold and stepped behind Shane.

The last thing Shane saw was Daryl aiming his crossbow at his face and out of the corner of his eye, T-Dog holding his upper right arm in a tight grip. He sensed Rick's presence behind him. Then the thick black cloth was pressed against his eyes and Shane saw no more.

**oOo**

They led him to the site of his execution.

Shane couldn't see anything, although he heard the sound of footsteps all around him. If he weren't blindfolded, he would've seen Rick leading the way and T-Dog walking next to him, still holding his upper right arm. If he were able to glance over his shoulder, he'd see Daryl aiming his crossbow directly at him—ready to fire at a second's notice. He wondered how they planned to do it, when suddenly he was stopped and forced to kneel. His knees slammed into a soft surface, it smelled like grass. Once again, Shane was amazed that he was given no choice to kneel or stand, but Rick had gave Randall that option. Someone pulled him up by the back of his collar so that he was kneeling in a straightened position and not leaning forward. Then his blindfold was yanked off and he was able to see where they had taken him.

Rick had told the truth about bringing out Shane to the open field. It was the dead of night and a large white moon loomed above them. Dark clouds rolled through the sky, sometimes obscuring the moon, other times allowing it to peak through. A cool wind whipped through the area.

Not only did he see where he was, but he saw who had come to witness his final moments. At this point, Shane knew Rick was torturing him. Everyone present had voted for his execution. In his mind, they wanted him dead and had shown up to make sure he didn't live to see another day.

Hershel stood next to Patricia, who quietly sobbed into her hands. A new wave of guilt washed over Shane. He looked down, unable to face her as he knew she was crying for Otis. When he closed his eyes, his mind replayed that horrific night. He opened his eyes again and watched Hershel put an arm around her shoulder, trying to comfort her. Jimmy stood nearby. Glenn and Maggie were next to them. Maggie looked indifferent, but Glenn appeared sad as though he couldn't believe this was happening. Carol stood off to the side by herself, her facial expression was unreadable. Shane was certain that if Daryl wasn't guarding him, he would've been standing next to Carol. Beth wasn't there, and Shane remembered she was in complete shock and depressed about the fate of her mother as Hershel had told him earlier.

Shane scanned the area, searching for Dale. He was nowhere to be found and Shane was surprised that Dale had been honest with him about not wanting to be present for his execution. Maybe he was given the task of staying with Beth or guarding Randall. Andrea had already left the farm and Shane hoped that everything he had taught her about shooting a gun and protecting herself would help her to survive out there.

Shane wondered where Randall was. Rick said they were going to release him. Randall was probably relieved that he had been set free and not executed. Shane viewed Randall as a piece of rat feces that should've been left to die when Rick, Hershel, and Glenn found him. Instead, they brought him back to the farm for whatever reasons. Shane knew it was Rick's call to bring back Randall. Rick wanted to give him a chance and Shane wanted to shoot the kid before he could start any trouble. Even Daryl didn't want Randall around and had beat the hell out of him, after he admitted to participating in the group's gang-rapes. It was the only time he and Daryl had been on the same page.

Shane decided to let everything go. There was nothing to hold onto anymore. Not grudges, past heartaches, or recent mistakes and bad choices. He had already said his piece and he had peace knowing he was right and Rick was wrong. He believed wholeheartedly that Rick's compassion for Randall was misplaced and would backfire on him and the group. For a brief moment, he felt worried for the group and about the possible ramifications of Rick giving Randall a chance to live. The moment passed and Shane released the worry. He was going to die. There was nothing he could do to save himself or protect the group. He had done everything he could to keep them safe, even though some of his choices weren't viewed in the best light. Shane made peace with himself about everything.

Then his eyes landed on Lori and Carl. From where he kneeled on the grass, Shane could tell Carl felt uncomfortable to watch his father murder his best friend. Carl stood in front of Lori, staring at Shane and swallowing hard, trying to fight back tears. He squirmed and looked up at his mother, while Lori gently held his shoulders. This wasn't right to make Carl witness this. It was completely wrong on so many levels and Shane was shocked that Rick would have his son present.

"Mmmph—mmm!" He tried talking against the gag and motioned towards Carl, leaning slightly forward. He knew it was impossible for anyone to know what he had said, but he hoped Rick would remove the gag, even if it was for a short period of time.

Rick came over and tore off the duct tape.

"Get him out of here! Carl—he shouldn't be here to see this," Shane implored to Rick. "That's my final request."

Rick looked from Shane to Carl. Without a word, he nodded in agreement and gestured for Lori to head back to Hershel's home. Shane breathed a sigh of relief that Rick had honored his request. He watched as Lori and Carl started towards Hershel's house. Even under the moonlit night, Shane saw tears rolling down Carl's cheeks. He thought he saw tears glistening in Lori's eyes, too, but his heart hardened when he thought of her now. He noticed she had tried to make eye contact with him and he had looked away on purpose. He thought he had let go of past heartaches, but the fact that Lori hadn't tried to stop Rick from executing him made him realize how foolish he had been for falling in love with her. Moments later, they were gone and Shane knew he would never see them again.

"Do you have any last words?" Rick asked.

Shane turned in Patricia's direction, trying not to get choked up or allow his nerves to overtake him. Seeing her cry twisted his innards. He imagined that a death-row prisoner minutes away from being executed felt this way when facing their victim's family—especially if they felt remorse for their crime(s). Taking a deep breath, he knew what he had to tell her. He didn't know if she would listen or accept what he said, but he had to try.

"I'm sorry, Patricia." At first, he stared at the ground, unable to face her, but then he forced himself to look directly at her. "I'm sorry about Otis. I wish it didn't happen. If I had a chance to do it again…" Shane never completed his sentence.

He was about to say that he would've sacrificed himself so that Otis had lived. Or that Otis' death resulted in keeping Carl alive and that he knew he had made the right choice. He knew she wouldn't believe or hear the former. The latter would've been said to defy Rick. This wasn't the time or the place. It would only come off like he was pouring salt in a gaping wound and he didn't want to further hurt Patricia. He had done enough damage the night he came home without Otis. Shane bit down on his lower lip in an effort to maintain self-control.

"Anything else?"

Shane swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to hide the immense hurt he felt from Rick's betrayal. The fact that Rick was so willing and seemingly eager to kill him in front of everyone tore him up inside. Even though he had tried to make peace with the fact that he would die at his best friend's hands...a part of him still couldn't believe it. He was able to hide his pain underneath his anger. He knew Rick responded more to his rage. He wasn't moved by Shane's emotional pain or isolation...or his fear. Shane struggled to fight off the mounting terror he felt from knowing his death was imminent. He breathed slowly, willing himself to stay calm and not panic. Finally, the words came to him.

"You let Randall go free…or you plannin' to release him…watch and see what happens. His group will come back and gun down everyone." He paused, considering what he was about to say. It was horrible, but it was the truth, and in Shane's mind, it would be far worse if it became a reality. "They'll kill our men and rape our women...when it's over, none of you will be alive. They'll take the farm. It's not the dead you have to worry about, it's the living."

An eerie silence followed after Shane's foreboding words. Shane looked at the group again and wondered what they were thinking. He wanted them to understand that his attempt to kill Randall didn't make him a monster. It meant keeping them alive. Better to kill one man, than for the entire group to die awful deaths. Shane thought he had gotten through to someone: he noticed Glenn kept looking at him and Rick, as though trying to decide which man was right.

"Which is why we're executin' you, Shane," Rick finally said. "Glad you understand that." Outwardly, his frustration came out as sarcasm. Inwardly, he felt irritated that Shane had almost broke his resolve to execute him.

Shane shook his head, frustrated that Rick still wouldn't listen to him. He glanced at Hershel and everyone else standing next to him. They simply watched and didn't get involved. Daryl spoke up, ending the standstill. 

"I thought these were s'posed to be his last words," he said, annoyed. "He's givin' us a speech and now you're conversatin' with him?"

Rick nodded, acknowledging what Daryl said. "Speech's time's over." He motioned to T-Dog to blindfold Shane again. "One last chance. What are your last words?"

Shane watched as Rick took out his Colt Python. Then the blindfold was wrapped around his eyes and he felt T-Dog knot it behind his head. It was a mercy that he couldn't see Rick aiming his Colt Python at him in the final minutes of his life. He could hear the mechanical click of Rick loading the Colt Python and pulling back the hammer. That was more than enough.

"The right choice is the one that keeps us alive." He meant to say his words louder, but they came out as an incoherent mumble. His heart was jumping up and down in his chest and he mentally kicked himself for allowing himself for feeling fear and showing it visibly.

"Say it again, so we can all hear you."

Rick's condescending tone infuriated him. He was toying with Shane in his final hour or he was trying to make him look like a fool. Shane didn't know what it was, but he obeyed Rick and repeated his life's philosophy that had resonated with him ever since the outbreak had started.

"The right choice is the one that keeps us alive." Shane spoke louder and clearer now.

"One more time, Shane."

Shane turned in the direction of Rick's voice. Behind the blindfold, he glared hatefully at his former best friend and brother. _Son of a bitch is enjoyin' this,_ Shane thought. All the rage he had felt since the start of the outbreak welled up inside him…

From the time Lori cut him off from Carl when Rick returned and accused him of lying without ever knowing how awful it was in the hospital. Every time Dale judged him for the situation with Otis. The fact that the world had collapsed and morals and justice had been distorted in the name of survival. The choice to shoot Otis to save himself and Carl—how it kept him awake at all hours of the night, long after everyone else had fallen asleep. The last time Rick shut him down when Shane warned him that Carl was carrying a gun. How Rick blatantly ignored the fact that Randall was very dangerous and posed a real threat to the group. All the fury Shane felt boiled to the surface.

If he had to die, then he would die with his dignity and believing he had made the right decisions that were difficult to make. He clenched his fists behind his back, straightened his posture so that he was facing his death head-on…and took a deep breath for the last time in his entire life.

"THE RIGHT CHOICE IS THE ONE THAT KEEPS US ALIVE!"

**_BANG!_ **

Rick pulled the trigger the instant Shane finished shouting out his last word: " _ALIVE_ ". The gunshot sounded like thunder in the quiet night. Shane hit the ground face first, his body making a soft thudding noise. Blood pooled around his head. There were audible gasps from the group. Someone began crying softly.

No one spoke.

Rick knelt down beside Shane's body to check for a pulse. There was none. He stood up and motioned towards T-Dog and Daryl to come forward.

"We'll get a sheet to wrap him in. I'll bury him off the farm's property. Is that okay, Hershel?"

"That's fine about the sheet, and you don't have to completely go off my property to lay him to rest."

Rick was struck by Hershel's response. Maybe Hershel had a change of heart towards Shane after all this time?

"Do you need any help?" T-Dog offered.

Rick shook his head. This was something he had to do on his own. "I got it. Thanks."

Daryl nodded. "Alright then." He carried his crossbow at his side now.

Rick turned to the rest of the group. "It's done. I'll take care of Shane in the morning." He looked down at his best friend's body who lay completely still in the grass. "We'll just cover him with a sheet for tonight and I'll do the rest."

The group stared at Rick for what seemed like forever. Then, without a word, Hershel and Jimmy slowly led Patricia towards the home. Maggie and Glenn followed them. Carol lingered for a short time, her eyes meeting Daryl's. Daryl came over to her, wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulder and left the area with her. He turned back once to Rick, who nodded at him to keep on going.

"You okay?"

Rick turned to T-Dog. He was the only one left from the group.

"I'm good, you can go with them. I'll be in shortly. I'm gonna stay outside with him."

T-Dog nodded, understanding Rick needed time alone. "I'll bring you a sheet to wrap him in."

"Thank you," Rick said, as he knelt down next to Shane's body. "I'll be out here for the rest of the night."

During the time it took for T-Dog to leave and come back with the sheet, Rick undid Shane's knots and situated him in a position where he was laying on his back, his arms resting at his sides. Rick removed the blindfold and placed his hand over Shane's eyes, closing them for the last time. For a second, he thought he felt a strange wetness on Shane's cheek. He remembered one solitary tear had escaped, right after T-Dog had blindfolded Shane. Rick had pretended not to see it. If he had openly acknowledged how powerless and afraid Shane felt, then Rick knew he wouldn't have been able to execute him. He didn't know if Shane's final emotional expression was for himself or anyone in the group. Rick put it out of his mind and forced himself to refocus. He checked Shane's body again to ensure he was lying in a respectful manner. The entire time, he tried to ignore the gunshot wound in Shane's head. He averted his eyes from the blood, not wanting to see it. Then he sat next to Shane's body in silence. A brief tear made its way down his cheek and he didn't bother to wipe it away.

"This was you, Shane," Rick said quietly, as he stared at the corpse laid out in front of him. "Not me. You did this."

T-Dog returned with the white sheet that Hershel gave him. No words were exchanged between them when he gave Rick the white sheet. He realized Rick was serious about staying outside all night with Shane's body and decided to head back to the barn for the evening. He turned back once and watched Rick spread the sheet on the grass. From there, Rick lifted Shane's body and placed it gently on the sheet.

T-Dog could tell by the way Rick moved that he was upset about murdering his best friend. _It had to be done,_ T-Dog thought… _Shane was a danger to the group._ He shook his head as he watched Rick finish wrapping Shane's body in the sheet. Rick remained at Shane's side and bowed his head. Soon his body was trembling and T-Dog realized Rick was crying. He was grieving the loss of his best friend and that it had come down to this awful irreversible moment. T-Dog turned away, giving Rick his privacy.

It had been a long night and he was relieved it was over. Tomorrow was a new day with new opportunities and the group would move on from this emotional night. T-Dog hoped things would get better from here, and he was certain the rest of the group felt the same way. Most of all, he hoped Rick wouldn't regret his choice to release Randall. And that eventually, he would make peace about his decision to execute Shane.

 


	6. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick receives support from Hershel in burying his best friend, but he still has to deal with the emotional ramifications of his decision--especially from his son, Carl.

" _For all its uncertainty, we cannot flee the future."_

-Barbara Jordan

Rick was still sitting next to Shane's body when the sun's first rays peaked over the horizon. He had stayed out all night, even when the temperature had dropped. Everyone understood he needed time alone. Maggie came out to give him a blanket to make sure he stayed warm. Aside from that, everyone gave him privacy to grieve. He was grateful for their kindness and for Maggie thinking of him, but it didn't matter. For Rick, he would never finish processing what he had done the night before.

None of it felt real.

During the night, he had unwrapped the sheet and touched Shane's body. Rick flinched when he had felt the ice coldness. It was difficult to accept that his best friend's body was already starting to decompose. And that was just physically. It shook Rick to his core when he realized how much Shane had decomposed _emotionally_ over the last several weeks…

When did Shane's decomposition process start? When Rick had returned? When he had shot Otis? When Lori found out she was pregnant? Rick didn't know when exactly Shane had died inside, but once the process started, it was impossible to reverse. It made Rick wonder if he had done things differently with Shane, would Shane have turned around? When he returned Shane's gun to him and told him to come back…did it make a difference? Could the old Shane he knew and loved come back to life after everything they had lost?

Rick would never know.

He had wrapped the sheet around Shane's body again and stayed by his best friend's side until dawn. He felt it was the honorable thing to do for the man he once considered his brother: remain by his side until it was time to lay him to rest. Now that a new day arrived, Rick sighed and he stood up. It was time to bury Shane. He didn't know where he would do it, but he would figure it out. For now, he had to remove Shane's body from the field.

Rick folded the blanket Maggie had gave him. He would return it later. He knelt down and tried to lift Shane's body. It took a little while, but he managed it. Taking a deep breath and holding the body of his best friend close to him, Rick started forward. He only walked a short distance before he was forced to lay Shane's body down again on the grass. When he was alive, Shane had weighed between 180 to 200 pounds of solid muscle. Now he was literally deadweight and Rick felt he was carrying twice the amount of pounds. It was too much and Rick worried about dropping and desecrating Shane's body.

The morbid strangeness of the situation made Rick consider for the first time what Shane had tried to do for him in the hospital. How could he get Rick out of there with walkers on one end and military at the other? Rick was in a coma at the time, he was deadweight. Rick realized that Shane carrying him out of the hospital—even with the aid of a gurney—was very risky. Now he was grateful for Shane's attempt to save him, but it was too late to thank him because his best friend would never hear his words. He said them anyway. Maybe, somewhere, Shane would hear them and finally be at peace.

"Thank you, Shane."

Rick closed his eyes as he placed his hand on the sheet covering his best friend. Another thought occurred to him: Shane hadn't turned. He thought about what Dr. Edwin Jenner had revealed in the CDC: _"we're all infected"_. Dr. Jenner had told only Rick that everyone was infected with the disease that made the dead come back to life. The illness that turned your family member or friend into a ravenous predator that feasted on living flesh. The person you once knew and loved was unrecognizable.

No one else knew what Rick knew to be true…

That's when it hit Rick: Dr. Jenner had showed them the video of his wife turning—and how he had shot her in the head to put her down. _I shot him in the head…he won't turn._ The thought raced through Rick's mind and even then he wondered if Shane was truly at peace now. At least he wasn't condemned to wandering the earth as a shell of his former self with only one desire: to devour the living. Shooting Shane in the head eliminated any chance of him reanimating. Rick thought it was a blessing for a man whose mind had disintegrated in the end. The last thing Shane needed was to be turned into a mindless walker.

Rick sighed. He decided he would talk to Hershel about where to place Shane's body when he heard his name being called.

"Rick?"

He looked up and saw Hershel approaching him with a pushcart. "You've got a knack for reading minds, Hershel."

"I've never been good at reading anyone's minds, Rick. I saw you struggling and figured I'd lend you a hand. We can place him on here and find a location to lay him to rest."

Rick was speechless as he nodded slowly. Hershel's gentle demeanor always helped him to move forward and face whatever came next. He especially felt this way after Hershel helped to address Carl's gunshot wound.

"On the count of three?" Hershel asked.

"Yes."

Hershel came over to Shane's feet and Rick positioned himself at Shane's head.

"One, two…" Rick started.

"Three."

Together, they lifted Shane's body and placed it on the pushcart. Hershel put Maggie's blanket in the cart after removing stray grass blades from it. Rick began pushing the cart and once again, Hershel seemed to have an uncanny ability of knowing what Rick was thinking and feeling. They walked together across the field.

"I told you last night that you don't have to go off my property to lay Shane to rest."

Rick nodded. "Yes, you did."

He was silent as he thought about the relationship between Shane and Hershel. At one point, Hershel wanted Shane off his farm or at least, nowhere near his house, after he had opened the barn and eliminated all the walkers.

"I hope you don't mind me askin', but is there a reason for your change of heart?"

"We had a thoughtful conversation hours before his death. He was sorry for what he had done to my barn and for the effect it had on my Beth." Hershel paused as he reflected back to his final talk with Shane. "I told him he helped me see the truth. We both were able to see the situation from the others' point-of-view. I wanted him to know that I don't hate him. I hope he finds comfort in God. In the end, that's the most important thing, Rick. That we seek God, find comfort in His loving arms."

Rick allowed Hershel's words to sink into his mind. "That was kind of you."

"I walked in there with anger in my heart, but I left with peace. I hope I left him the same way."

"I'm sure you did."

Rick tried not to compare Hershel's final encounters with Shane to his own experiences. _He_ didn't leave Shane in that manner. A wave of guilt swept over him. The tone of their final conversations had been soaked in anger and bitterness. There was no way to undo it. Well, there was…Hershel was leading him to that final conclusion right now. Laying Shane to rest and giving him a respectful burial was the least that Rick could do now.

"I came to accept that Shane wasn't bad. He just didn't know how to express what he was feeling and thinking. He pushed others away, but his heart was in the right place. I can relate to that. There've been many times as a father that I pushed my own daughters away with how I came across, but in the end, I was only trying to protect them from the dangers of this world. Keep them safe. It took me awhile to see that Shane was trying to do the same thing for all of us."

"He was…" Rick couldn't complete his thought and for the first time, he wondered if he made a mistake in executing Shane. He stopped moving the pushcart, stuck in his thoughts. What if Shane was right and he was wrong? He shook his head. He didn't want to doubt himself as he knew he couldn't undo what he did last night. "He was a good man, he just…he lost himself." That made the most sense: Shane lost himself.

Hershel gave Rick time to process his thoughts. He took over and moved the pushcart along to another area of the farm and went in the direction opposite of the barn. Rick walked side by side with him. The only sound was the noise as the pushcart rolled along the grass.

"There's a nice area near here under these cluster of oak trees where you can lay him to rest," Hershel said, pointing further out.

Rick looked ahead and saw the oak trees that Hershel had mentioned. The leaves were blowing gently in the wind. Even from where they stood, Rick could tell this was a peaceful area on the farm. It was a good place to bury Shane.

"As I told you, he can be buried on my property…just not near Otis' memorial. It would upset Patricia."

"I understand."

"I knew you would, Rick."

Hershel was quiet for few minutes as they continued to direct the pushcart to Shane's final resting place. After some time, he began singing softly. Rick recognized the song as "Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Broken)" by Chris Tomlin. He wasn't one for religion or faith, but there was something comforting about Hershel's singing and the lyrics. One particular stanza stood out to him and he wondered if Shane was free now that he was gone from this world.

_My chains are gone_   
_I've been set free_   
_My God, my Savior has ransomed me_   
_And like a flood His mercy reigns_   
_Unending love, amazing grace_

Hershel brought the pushcart closer to the oak trees and Rick fought hard against the tears burning in his eyes. He had cried during the night and he hoped he would be able to hold it together when it was finally time to place the dirt in Shane's grave. _  
_

**oOo**

Hershel had left him a half hour ago. He knew instinctively that Rick had to do this task by himself. Rick was grateful that Hershel left him alone and that he didn't have to explain himself. At first, Rick had dug out the dirt slowly. Now, he was shoveling out the dirt in a rushed frenzy, wanting to be done with everything. He was almost finished digging the grave for Shane.

Just like during the night, Rick needed time to reflect on everything that had happened between him and Shane. On one hand, he felt devastated that he had killed his best friend. On the other hand—Rick felt immersed in anger. He felt furious for all the arguing and fighting that occurred between them during the past several weeks. It seemed like everything had turned into a war between them: the search for Sophia, Hershel's barn, what to do about Randall, and most of all, their situation with Lori. At every turn, he felt Shane undermined his authority and even acted territorial about Carl and Lori, although they weren't his family. The fact that Shane had tried killing him the first time they tried to release Randall...Rick shook his head when he remembered that incident. Their friendship had become strained from all the pressure and at the last instant, it snapped apart.

Rick knew deep down inside that Shane's execution wasn't only about Randall.

It was a way for him to eliminate Shane for good, so that he didn't have to deal with him anymore. _I wanted him dead, almost as much as he wanted me dead._ Rick shuddered when he thought about his motives. It wasn't just about Randall, Otis, and keeping the group safe. The execution was his way of getting out all the fury he felt at Shane for sleeping with Lori behind his back. Although Rick wanted to or tried to understand what had happened between them and not remain angry, there was a larger part of him that felt deeply betrayed. His mind rationalized it, but his heart refused to accept it.

He would've handled it better if they had told him what exactly had happened (and why it had happened) instead of trying to hide it. Because the more they tried to hide it, the more obvious it became. It didn't take long for him to notice the glances that Shane sent Lori when he thought Rick wasn't looking. Or how Lori's eyes became misty when she looked at Shane. Even the way Lori bit her lip when Rick mentioned Shane's name, or the manner in which Shane avoided his eyes when Rick brought up Lori, revealed everything he had suspected, but felt afraid to voice aloud for fear that it was true.

Rick placed his shovel in the dirt and wiped the tears that had escaped from his eyes. He needed to focus now so that he could complete his task. Rick bent down and lifted Shane's body. He laid it down gently in the grave. The grave wasn't six feet deep, but it wasn't too shallow either. It was at an even level where he could easily place Shane's body inside. Rick took several deep breaths as he stared at the white sheet covering Shane, still in disbelief that in a few moments, the body of his best friend, brother, and police partner, would forever be in the earth.

 _Time to do it,_ Rick thought.

He started shoveling dirt into the grave. At first, the sound of dirt hitting the shell of his best friend unnerved him and he flinched. The more he did it though, Rick found he felt relieved. It was cathartic. Rick found that in burying Shane, he was burying the anger and hurt he felt towards him.

"Rick?"

He paused when he heard Lori's voice. He refused to turn in her direction, but he knew that ignoring her would hurt her.

"Not now, Lori."

"But I have—"

" _Not now_."

Rick didn't turn to face her. He waited until he heard her walk away from the area. It was only when he was certain that she had completely left that he turned in the direction where he had heard her voice. On the ground lay Shane's baseball cap that read in capital letters: _POLICE_. Rick picked it up and turned it over, remembering the day he had been shot. Shane had tried to keep him calm although he was fading fast, and he had hazier memories of Shane visiting him in the hospital…he had no recollection of Shane trying to get him out after the outbreak. That memory has been sucked into the black hole of his coma.

Rick placed Shane's baseball cap on the ground and finished filling up the grave. When he was finished, he placed the cap over the dirt as a way to mark Shane's final resting place. He thought about what to do next. Rick had told Hershel what he thought about God, religion, and faith, but now he knelt down and said a prayer.

"God, I don't know if you're out there or even listenin', but if you are…please forgive Shane for his struggles. He lost himself…he wasn't the man he used to be. And please forgive me for…" It took everything he had to verbalize aloud what he had actually done, "…for killin' my best friend. Let him be safe with you. Give him the peace up there that he didn't have down here. Please give me and those I love the strength to go on with our lives."

When he was finished praying, Rick stood up and was surprised that he felt lighter. He wondered if there really was something about Hershel's faith that helped him through everything.

For the first time in a long while, Rick felt hopeful. Maybe things would start to turn around for the better. Only time would tell and he figured he could do wait it out. After all, time was his friend and he had more of that now, ever since the world had turned upside-down. Starting towards Hershel's home, Rick knew that time would help him to move on from how things ended between him and Shane. Then he changed his mind and headed towards Hershel's shed…

**oOo**

Carl waited until his father left.

When he was certain that he was nowhere near the area, he placed a figure eight knot to mark Shane's grave next to the baseball cap. He didn't fight back the tears and allowed himself to cry freely. He knew by the time he met with his parents later that he would be done crying. Maybe his father would ask him how he felt, and his mother would check on him to make sure he was okay.

Carl knew Shane had been close with his mother when his father was in the coma. Shane would visit their home to make sure they were doing okay, take them to the hospital to visit his father. Sometimes he would stay for dinner, other times he would leave. After the outbreak, Carl noticed a change between his mother and Shane. It was...different from before. They were always together at the camp...and sometimes they would disappear into the woods only to reappear a short time later. Carl knew from the way both adults behaved when they returned, that they hadn't been scavenging for mushrooms. Not when his mother's hair was disheveled or Shane's face had this peaceful, yet, strange expression. Although Shane was his father's best friend, Carl didn't know what he thought or felt about Shane's and his mother's behavior...They were doing more than just being friends and Carl often wondered how they both felt about each other. It was obvious to Carl that both adults were choosing to do whatever they were doing. It wasn't one-sided. He never spoke about it, but it was something he was well aware of, even if the adults around him acted like nothing was happening (or that everything was the same). He had even thought his father was dead after what Shane had told him. Then his father returned and that was the best day of his life.

Carl wanted to feel angry at Shane, and yet…

Shane had taught him how to use a gun to defend himself and protect those he loved, how to tie different knots, and had got him and his mother to safety when all hell broke loose. Carl knew Shane wasn't perfect. Far from it. Shane and his father clashed. At times, he made his father upset when they disagreed on different things, but he was the reason Carl was alive after the world was ripped apart at the seams, and that still meant something. Carl realized he could feel angry at Shane, but still love him and miss him. It was confusing to have those conflicting feelings. Emotions were complicated, but these days Carl felt everything: sadness about Sophia's and Shane's death, anger at Carol for talking about heaven as though that would make everything perfect again, pride that he was able to kill his first walker, doubt as to why his parents thought it was acceptable for him to witness Shane's death, appreciation that Shane asked for Carl to be removed from the execution site... All of these things were terribly confusing and there wasn't an easy explanation for any of it. Carl figured life was messy and chaotic. It always had been that way since his parents constantly argued before the outbreak, but now it was different and felt worse than before. Since his father was preoccupied with addressing issues on the farm, Carl tried to make sense of everything on his own.

Carl stayed a little while longer thinking about what happened to Shane and why it had occurred. He thought about Randall and how his father was about to execute him before Carl showed up. Carl could tell Shane was angry about the execution not going forward and that his father was torn about it. Now Shane was gone and Randall would be released. _Shane was gone..._ Carl was still in disbelief about what happened the night before. He knew the first chance he could get , he would come out to wherever Shane was laid to rest. It was good to be out here, even if it was for a sad reason. Carl didn't think his father would bring him to the gravesite, which is why he visited it by himself. He picked up the knot, turning it over, remembering how Shane had taught him that particular skill. He placed the knot down on the grave again and sat in silence. After some time, he left the new grave bearing Shane's baseball cap and figure eight knot, and headed back to Hershel's home.

**oOo**

Rick entered the shed on his own. He thought about having Daryl and T-Dog accompany him, but then decided to go by himself. They had done so much already and he didn't want to drag them into this. Aside from their support with addressing the Shane situation, Rick felt it best to speak to Randall on his own.

Now he stood over Randall and it occurred to Rick how pathetic and weak the kid really was. He was chained, gagged, and blindfolded—completely helpless. It made Rick remember how determined Shane was to kill him. Seeing Randall in this state with bloody wrists, black and blue bruises marred on his face, and making whimpering noises made Rick reconsider what he wanted to do.

Should he kill Randall on the spot? Or let him go?

Rick closed his eyes, hating to have to debate this question on his own. Without a second thought, he ripped the duct tape off Randall's mouth.

Randall flinched in response and swallowed nervously. "Who's there?" He sounded worried and fearful.

"Shut up."

Rick's eyes narrowed as extreme hatred rushed through him. He despised Randall as being one of the reasons him and Shane's friendship disintegrated. There were other reasons, but right now, staring at Randall, Rick found that he hated the kid more than ever. He was compassionate in bringing him back to the farm, but it didn't mean that he cared about him. He wished now that he had never gave him a chance that night. Maybe Shane would still be alive…

Several moments of silence passed. Then Randall spoke, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Oh…it's you…"

Rick didn't answer Randall. He waited to see if Randall would continue talking, to see what he would say. He didn't have to wait long.

"Please…if you let me go…I'll stay out of your way….you'll never see me again."

"How do we know that for sure?"

"Because I want to live—I don't want to die."

"Wouldn't it be best if I killed you right here and now?"

Randall pressed himself against the wall and squirmed as the handcuffs tightened around his wrists. The chains around his legs clinked and he started breathing fast and shaking. Rick thought he was having a panic attack and watched him for a little while longer.

"I just want to live…" Randall's desperation was clear in his voice as he pled his case. "I—I can help you guys if you want."

"Help us do what." Rick's voice was flat.

"I don't know—anything—I'll do anything you wa—"

Rick decided he had heard enough and smacked the duct tape over Randall's mouth again. Without another word, he left Randall in the shed and headed towards Hershel's home. He had made up his mind about what to do about Randall, when he would do it, and he would enlist Daryl and T-Dog's assistance. He had wanted to get a sense of what direction to take—and for some reason, he felt it was important that he came to that conclusion on his own. Rick walked with renewed confidence and decided to try to relax for the next few hours—he was already emotionally exhausted from everything that had happened last night and earlier this morning. _Things are gonna get better,_ he thought.

**oOo**

Later that same evening, everyone sat down to a family dinner. Hershel had invited the group to move into his home to lift everyone's spirits and mainly, because as he put it: _"we should be under one roof living and working together"._ Just as he had suggested, they had worked together throughout the day to settle in. There wasn't much to move around, but it was a time of relaxation for everyone, shared joking and laughter. It distracted everyone from what had occurred the night before, but now that they were seated together, Rick noticed it more than ever:

Without Shane's presence, everything was calm.

At first glance, all was peaceful, but when he watched more carefully, he realized how awkward it was not having Shane around. He rationalized that he was the only one who felt strange about it. Everyone else seemed to have moved on. Carol and Daryl sat together, speaking amongst themselves. They seemed to be doing fine. Lori ate her dinner and watched as Carl pushed his vegetables to the side of his plate—a habit he always had even before the outbreak. Rick was about to say something to him about it when he saw Patricia and Jimmy make room for Beth who came to sit at the table.

"There's my doodle-bug," Hershel said, as he rose from his chair. He greeted his younger daughter with a warm hug and kissed her on the forehead. "I'm so glad you can join us."

Beth smiled and sat down between Jimmy and Patricia.

Maggie sat on Glenn's right side. Glenn was holding Maggie's hand and at the same time, trying to speak with Dale, who sat between him and T-Dog. For the first time that Rick could remember, Dale looked lost. Usually he presented as friendly, but now he appeared disconnected from everyone.

"She'll be back, Dale," Glenn said.

Dale nodded, but he didn't look convinced. "I don't think so."

"She will, she couldn't have gone far."

"We can start a search for her tomorrow morning," T-Dog added.

"She wouldn't want you to go after her," Dale said.

"How do you know?" Glenn asked.

"Because of what she wrote in her note." Dale sighed as he reached into his pocket. He pushed aside his plate of uneaten food and produced a folded paper.

T-Dog and Glenn glanced at each other, each man wondering who should read the note.

"Go ahead," T-Dog said, gesturing towards Glenn.

Glenn reached for the note and then stopped when he met Rick's eyes across the table. Rock nodded at him, encouraging him to read the note. Glenn read the note silently to himself and gave it back to Dale.

"We'll find her, Dale. You don't have to do it alone."

"She doesn't want to be found," Dale said, finally facing Glenn. "I appreciate your concern…you and T-Dog have been great. But I know what she wants and I know what I want. What I want _isn't_ what she wants. I want to find her, she wants to be on her own. I've made this mistake before back at the CDC." He shook his head, remembering how he refused to leave Andrea in the building that was doomed to explode. Andrea had wanted to die and he wouldn't let her—the tense arguments after that situation had always resonated with Dale.

"How long has she felt this way?" T-Dog asked.

"Probably before last night. I really don't know." Dale shrugged. "Maybe Shane got into her head."

At the mention of Shane, everyone grew quiet. Carol and Daryl looked in Dale's direction. Jimmy stared at his plate. Patricia placed her spoon on her napkin and appeared tense. Beth blinked and Maggie squeezed Glenn's hand. Lori eyed Carl to watch his reaction and noticed he had completely stopped eating. T-Dog and Glenn both appeared uneasy at the mention of Shane. They knew he didn't get along with Dale and had gotten close to Andrea before his execution. Hershel nodded at Rick, to indicate he would speak on what had become of Shane.

"We laid him to rest earlier today," Hershel said. "It's at a quiet secluded area on my property." He looked at Rick, expecting him to continue.

Rick followed Hershel's cue. "We—I can show you tomorrow where he is."

"It's not about that," Dale said, unable to hide his frustration. "Andrea's gone. I don't know where she is, if she's safe, if she's dead or alive."

"We'll organize a search for her tomorrow," Rick said. He had to show all of them that they could trust in his leadership. He wanted Dale and everyone to know that he took their concerns seriously. "She's been gone for a day and she couldn't have gotten far."

"We don't know that." Dale's tone carried a note of anxiety that was completely unlike him. "We have no idea where she is."

"I know, but we'll try to find her." Rick wondered if he should say his next words, especially after what became of Sophia. He hadn't given up searching for her and he wouldn't stop searching for Andrea either. "I promise you we'll do all we can to find her."

Dale nodded half-heartedly. He pushed away from the table and stood up. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hershel. For sharing your home with us. I'm sorry, but I need some time alone." He took off his bucket hat and left the dining room before Hershel could respond.

Hershel stood up to follow him, but Glenn shook his head. "He'll be okay, he just needs time to process everything. He's really worried about Andrea. They were very close; he helped bring Andrea and her sister, Amy, to safety when everything first started."

Hershel nodded as he sat back down. "When did she go missing?"

"Around the time we…" Glenn struggled to find a nice way to describe what had happened to Shane. _Execute. Kill. Murder. There's no good way to put it,_ he thought, frustrated.

"Aroun' the time we were gettin' Shane ready for his execution," Daryl threw in. He wasn't one to mince words. "She showed up to say good-bye to Shane, and that was the last time we saw her."

"And you didn't stop her?" Glenn asked, trying not to sound upset.

"No. She wanted to go, so let her."

Glenn was struck into a confused silence, unsure of what to say or how to respond.

"I wasn't gonna stop her from doin' what she wanted to do," Daryl added. "She wouldn't have listened to me even if I tried."

"I noticed her, but we were busy with Shane…" Rick said, his voice trailing off.

Once again, guilt and doubt took turns gnawing at his conscience. He had done the right thing….hadn't he? With Shane gone, the group was peaceful now. There were no arguments and conflicts. Except this minor one about letting Andrea go. _Andrea would've never left if Shane hadn't been executed…_ the thought rammed itself across Rick's mind and he tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. Had Shane's execution fragmented the group? That was never his intention, but now as he thought about it, he wondered again if he had made the right choice.

"When were you going to talk about it, Dad? About what you did to Shane?"

Rick felt his face heat up with embarrassment as his son called him out in front of everyone. He was still reeling from Dale's frustrated reaction to Andrea's disappearance. And now Carl had chosen an inopportune time to speak out against him.

"CARL! You will _not_ take that tone of voice with me!"

Carl glared at his father, refusing to answer.

A deadly silence descended upon the group. Everyone was frozen watching the entire scene play out.

"You're excused from the table, Carl," Lori said. "Let's go." She got up and stood behind his chair, expecting him to follow her directive.

Carl looked up at his mother and after several seconds, he bolted upright. "You voted for it to happen," he said, pointing at her. Lori's jaw dropped in shock and before she could respond, he continued. "After he helped get us out of Atlanta—you wanted him to die—for what?!" He released his anger now at both his parents much to the surprise of everyone seated around the table. "Because Dad was too chicken-shit to kill Randall! At least Shane wanted to do it."

Rick had heard enough. By now, he didn't care how he appeared in front of everyone—he refused to allow his son to disrespect him in this manner. He crossed over to Carl and Lori stepped aside as he reached over and grabbed Carl's right arm.

"You're coming with me. _Now._ You and I are goin' to have a father-son talk."

Without a word, Rick removed Carl from the dining room and they made their way to the entrance of Hershel's home. Rick grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. He escorted Carl outside into the cold night and closed the door behind him. Carl stepped away as though intending to run down the steps and into the field.

"Stay right where you are. You're not goin' anywhere, Carl."

"There's no place to go," Carl snapped.

"Not another word from you, do you understand? Just because things aren't like what they were before doesn't give you free reign to be disrespectful to your parents or any adults around you. Understood?"

Carl didn't say anything and he refused to look at his father.

"Look me in the eye when I'm talkin' to you, young man."

Carl looked up and met his father's angry expression. He was still upset, but now seeing his father's reaction, Carl toned himself down a notch. He stared at the porch and then back at his father who never took his eyes off his son.

"If somethin's botherin' you, then you tell me. Bein' upset about Shane doesn't mean it's okay to act out."

Carl nodded. He stared past his father now as tears brimmed in his eyes. "How could you do that to Shane?" He mumbled. "He was your best friend…he helped me and Mom when you were in the hospital…"

Rick sighed as sadness took over him. Carl had no idea how devastating it was for his father to bury his best friend after shooting him in the head. He wondered if he should share that with his son, if transparency was the answer. But then that meant discussing the affair between Lori and Shane, and even what really happened to Otis that night. Rick didn't want to go there with his son. He felt uncomfortable with it and didn't think he'd have the strength to be able to help Carl process those events. He didn't want Carl to hate his mother, to hate Shane, and most of all, to hate him. He didn't realize that by killing Shane, it would shatter his family, and ironically enough, it was Shane who had tried to keep Rick's family together when the outbreak first started.

He also realized that having Carl there to witness Shane's execution was traumatic for his son. Rick searched inside his heart and mind as to why he even permitted his son to be present. What were his reasons? His motives? Although Carl had left with Lori as this was Shane's final request, Rick couldn't undo what his son was about to witness. He remembered Carl showing up when his father tried to execute Randall the first time. Carl had urged his father to carry out the execution: _"do it, Dad"._ At the time, Rick had completely stopped, unable to carry out Randall's execution. With Shane, it was different...Rick wanted to assert his authority and leadership over the group...including his son and wife.

"It wasn't an easy decision to make," Rick finally said. "I had to do it though."

"No, you didn't, Dad!"

"Carl, listen to me. In life, we have to make choices. Choices that aren't easy. Choices that may haunt us later. Sometimes we make those choices based on what's in front of us. We don't always know the outcome or consequence of those choices."

Carl looked thoughtful for a moment. "Then how do you make a choice if you don't know?"

Rick sighed when he thought about Carl's question and his own recent decisions. He didn't want to regret them, but he knew he would have to move on, no matter what he thought and felt about it. And he needed Carl to understand that choices and decisions in life weren't made in a vacuum. He remembered his father telling him that quote when he was Carl's age: _there are many things that influence our decisions, Rick, and our decisions make an impact, cause a ripple effect..._ Rick wanted to share this wisdom with his son.

"You go by what's right at the time...what's in front of you, Carl. Other times, we make choices based on others well-being. We have to think of the needs of many instead of the needs of one. In this case, the safety of the group came first. Shane's needs were based on other things."

"He wanted to keep us safe!"

"He had other things on his mind."

"Like what?" Carl challenged.

Rick shook his head, not wanting to elaborate. "I know you love Shane. I understand that, Carl, because I love him too. But he wasn't the man he used to be. I know he helped you and Mom when I was in the hospital. I'll always be grateful for what he did."

"Then why did you kill him? He taught me things!" Carl's voice rose and he choked back a sob. "Like how to shoot a gun. I put down my first walker because of him. I didn't want to tell you, but he told me to tell you."

Rick nodded, but inwardly, he was surprised by what Carl had revealed to him. "You put down your first walker…" He paused, feeling awkward more than ever. He forced himself to continue. "He wanted you to tell me?"

"Yes! That's why I don't understand why you had to go and kill him in front of everybody!"

Rick moved towards Carl to embrace him, but Carl recoiled. At that same moment, Lori came outside to where they were on the porch.

"What's going on?" Lori asked.

"Your son and I are talkin' about making choices," Rick said. "You can share your thoughts as his mother."

Lori approached Carl, who now stood on the far side of the porch. "Carl, listen. Whatever your father told you about choices, that's what it is. Everyday we have to make choices to survive. Some choices are harder than others."

Carl whipped around and Lori halted. "Why'd you want Shane to die? Why did you choose that?"

"No one wanted Shane to die, Carl."

"Then why did it happen?" Carl said as he backed up, putting distance between himself and his mother.

Lori appeared unsure of herself and then forced herself to continue. "Because he was frightening people. He was scaring the group and it was causing—"

"That's bullshit."

Lori stormed over to Carl. "Watch your mouth! Your father is doing _every_ thing he can to protect you, me, and all of us. I know you may not like what happened last night. None of us do. We have to keep everyone safe. If one of us gets out of line to the extent that Shane did, then we have to think about the needs of the group. He was going to kill Randall, and who knows who else."

"You should've let him kill Randall. Shane said—"

"I don't want to hear another word of what Shane said. From here on, you will not question what your father did to Shane and you will not speak of Shane anymore. Is that clear?" Lori's tone was sharp-edged as she locked eyes with Carl.

Carl shrank back in response. He nodded, but said nothing. Without another word, he ran back into Hershel's home, slamming the door behind him. It was as though he still needed to communicate to both his parents how angry he felt about Shane's death—and that he felt they were to blame. Rick was going to go after him when Lori stopped him.

"Let him be, Rick. He's grieving."

Rick nodded, but said nothing for a long time. Finally, he asked Lori a question, one that he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to. "Did you love him?"

Lori looked at Rick, her eyes wide. She turned away, not wanting to face him. Just before she turned her back on him, he saw her swallow nervously. There was something eerie about the way her neck trembled and how her eyes clouded over before she hid her face from him…He knew the answer and decided not to push it. Instead, he opted for a different question, one where he needed to know her answer because he craved her support and validation, since he was already doubting himself.

"Did I do the right thing?"

She instinctively knew what he referred to. "Yes, Rick." Now she turned around and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close to her. "You did what you had to…if you didn't…he would've killed you first."

He nodded, remembering how Shane threw the wrench at him when they were fighting about how to handle Randall. Shane had tried to kill Randall twice that day and both times Rick stopped him. Their fight boiled down to the real tension between them: Shane told Rick he couldn't keep Lori and Carl safe...And yet, despite those words, Shane had thrown a wrench at Rick. Rick knew that wasn't an accident and if that wrench had smashed his face or body, he would've been dead. It didn't stop there. Even when Shane was tied up, he was _still_ threatening to kill Rick: _"You better hope these ropes hold, Rick. If I ever get loose…I will fuckin' kill you."_ As those memories replayed in his mind, Rick's hands closed into tight fists, revealing his inner resolve. He found his final acceptance of Shane's execution.

There was no reason to regret his decision or second guess himself. He did the right thing: he did what had to be done to ensure his own safety. There was no telling what Shane was capable of anymore—not if he was so willing to murder his best friend so that he could have his family, take over the group—Rick shook his head, refusing to entertain these thoughts further. Shane was dead and no longer a threat. He had made the right choice. And he was glad that Lori felt the same way. Although he was deeply hurt from her affair with Shane, he still looked to her to be his pillar of strength. He needed her now more than ever.

"Thank you, Lori." He hugged her close, resting his face in her hair. He loved the scent of her hair—it was fresh and smelled like lavender.

Lori returned Rick's embrace. After a few minutes, she pulled away. "I'm going to find our son see how he's doing."

"Alright," Rick said, nodding. "I'll be out here for a bit."

He didn't turn around when he heard Lori enter Hershel's home. He sat on the steps by himself for what seemed like an hour although it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes. He heard the door open and shut behind him. Rick didn't look behind him and was shocked to see Daryl join him.

"You doin' alright?" Daryl asked.

Rick gave a half nod. "Yeah, I'm okay. How's everyone back there?"

"They're hangin' in there, eatin' and whisperin' about what just went down between you and your son. Swallowin' the bitter pill that Shane ain't with us anymore. It's not so bitter when you think about it. It's better."

"I guess so." Rick's voice was empty now. "It had to be done."

"If you didn't off him first, he would've killed you, Rick. Doesn't take a genius to see that."

Rick was silent as he didn't want to acknowledge the truth aloud, although he was able to confirm it in his mind. Without knowing it, Daryl had validated Lori's sentiments about Shane becoming dangerous to Rick. He forced himself to agree because otherwise he would continue wresting with himself. He thought it was ironic how he felt confident on how to handle Randall, but when it came to Shane, the questions and self-doubt never left him.

"You're right. I don't like admittin' it…but you're right."

"Not an easy pill to swallow, that's for sure."

"It's not…he was my best friend…my brother…"

"I know, but sometimes best friends become worst enemies. And if they cross the line and try to kill you, you gotta put them down first. Cut 'em off, stop talkin' with them. In the world we're livin' in now, that won't be enough. You did what you had to do."

Rick nodded, but remained silent as he took in Daryl's words.

Daryl was quiet as he allowed Rick to process his thoughts and then he changed the subject.

"So what're we gonna do about Randall? You still plannin' on freein' him?"

"Yeah," Rick said, now turning to face Daryl. "I think we should do it first thing tomorrow morning. Get it over and done with."

"You want T-Dog to be involved?"

"He's done enough already. He can keep watch over the farm while we take care of Randall."

"He's down for whatever you need him to do. So am I."

Rick thought for a moment. "What about what him and Glenn suggested about searchin' for Andrea? They could start combin' through Hershel's property and the surroundin' area to see if she's around."

"That won't be necessary."

Rick and Daryl looked behind them at the same time just as Dale finished his statement and joined them outside on the porch. He didn't sit with them, but remained standing near the doorway.

"I'm sorry about tonight," Dale offered. "I just can't believe she's gone."

"You don't have to apologize," Rick said. "We know how much you care about Andrea."

"She's like the daughter I never had…her and Amy. Irma and I tried to conceive years ago…" Dale didn't finish. He sighed heavily and removed the folded note from his pocket. "This is the letter she left for me."

Daryl watched as Rick took the letter from Dale. At first, he read it to himself until Dale spoke up.

"You can read it aloud. It's okay for Daryl to hear it. I showed it to T-Dog when he stopped by to see how I was doing after I left dinner."

Rick nodded and read the note aloud: " _Dear Dale. By the time you read this letter, I'll be long gone from Hershel's farm. I don't know where I'll be, but I know that it will be far away from everyone who tried to make Shane out to be the bad guy when all he's tried to do was keep everyone safe. I respect Rick, but I don't believe he'll keep us safe. So I'm leaving in order to look out for myself. I can't wait on Rick to catch up with Shane's thinking…Aside from that, I want to thank you for helping me and Amy. I know we had our differences after what happened at the CDC. Sometimes I still feel angry at you for not allowing me to make my own choice, but I know you meant well. This world is hell to live in now and we can't go at it alone, but I'm going to try. We may never see each other again. It is what it is. Please don't waste time searching for me. I'll be fine. Spend that time with the rest of the group and remember me always, just as I'll always remember you. All my best, Andrea."_

Rick silently handed the note back to Dale, who folded it and placed it in his pocket again.

"Damn," Daryl muttered, shaking his head. "She wanted to go…there was no stoppin' her."

"I know," Dale said, responding to Daryl. "She had her mind made up." He turned to Rick. "I don't blame you for Andrea leaving the farm. She's an adult, capable of making her own decisions. She doesn't need my approval to do things. I just wish I knew that she was safe."

"I understand, Dale. Are you sure you don't want us to give one look around?"

Dale shrugged. "You can, but it would be going against her wishes. I did enough of that with her…" He shook his head when he remembered their arguments about the CDC. "All it did was push her away from me. As hard as it is for me to say this…just let it be."

Rick nodded, but he felt torn up inside. What if Andrea was dead? What if there was a chance that she was still alive and Dale was giving up any chance of finding her—all because he wanted to honor her wish to not be found. What about the rest of the group? He asked this.

"What good will it do? She's probably long gone."

Dale's pessimism was so unlike him that for a moment, Rick wondered if this was the same Dale he had come to know so well since finding the Atlantic group.

"But she's still worth searchin' for, she's one of us." Rick took a deep breath. "She's family."

"I agree with you there, but…" Dale gave a reluctant sigh. "I just don't know what to think anymore. Let it be…it's what she wants. She made it very clear in her letter." Dale took out the letter again.

"Alright…if you change your mind, we'll start first thing." Rick hated that he said those words, but at this point, what more could he do? He wanted to search for her, but it didn't seem like it would help matters.

Dale gave a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, Rick. Daryl, same to you. I appreciate your concern. I'll just retire for the night and try not to get myself worked up about it."

Rick and Daryl watched as Dale entered Hershel's home and shut the door behind him. Neither man spoke for a few minutes. It seemed as though each one was avoiding the topic that had to be discussed. It couldn't be put off any longer: they had to address the Randall issue. Shane had thrown a wrench into their original plans when he tried to solve the problem himself…but he was gone now and Rick knew this was the time.

"Tomorrow morning, Daryl. Meet me at the shed. Tell T-Dog to be there."

Daryl knew without any further elaboration that Rick referred to Randall. "See you then, Rick, bright an' early."


	7. The Calm Before The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rick finally goes forward with his plan and releases Randall with Daryl's assistance; at the same time, Andrea's fate is revealed.

_"_ _Life was good.  
_ _Everything was going right.  
_ _It was almost scaring him because usually when things were going this well_   
_it was the calm before the storm hit."_

-Michelle Sutton, Their Separate Ways

The sun had barely reached over the horizon when Rick, Daryl, and T-Dog met outside of the shed.

"We're gonna carry out our plan," Rick said to T-Dog. "What I need you to do is watch over the farm while we're gone."

T-Dog nodded. "How long do you think it'll take to drop him off?"

Rick squinted as the sun rose higher into the sky. "I'd say no more than an hour, two at most."

"Everyone else knows you're getting rid of Randall today?"

"I didn't tell them," Rick said.

"Better to jus' do it and not get into it with them," Daryl said, adding his thoughts. "We already got held up thanks to Shane."

"True, but Shane's not here anymore," Rick said, trying to keep his voice neutral. He still was adjusting to Shane's death and that he was the one that ended his best friend's life. Rick allowed a small wave of grief wash over him. He cleared his mind of the memory of shooting Shane in the head in front of everyone. Right now, he couldn't afford to be plagued with guilt. He needed to get this task done and he was determined to move forward with their plan. There would be plenty of time later to fully grieve for his best friend. "We'll do this, get it over and done with."

"Got it," T-Dog said. "I'll check in with everyone later. They're all sleeping."

"Perfect," Rick said. "Daryl and I will take it from here."

T-Dog nodded and then headed back to Hershel's home.

"You ready?" Rick asked Daryl.

"Let's do this."

Daryl undid the lock and walked into the shed. Rick went ahead of him to check on Randall to ensure he was still there. Daryl made sure to have his crossbow ready just in case. There was no need to do anything: Randall was sitting against the wall, chained up, gagged, and blindfolded. Daryl placed his crossbow down on the ground. Rick pointed at Randall's hands without making a sound. Daryl tied Randall's hands and Rick undid the handcuffs. They carried Randall out to the SUV and shoved him into the trunk. Rick slammed it shut and then turned to Daryl.

"How far are you takin' him?" Daryl asked.

"Much further than Shane an' I did the first time around." Rick turned the ignition for the SUV, and the vehicle rumbled to life.

"Good plan. Hold on just a second." Daryl went into the shed, retrieved his crossbow, and rejoined Rick in the SUV. "We still givin' him a gun with one bullet?"

"Yeah, we'll give him a fair chance to survive out there."

**oOo**

Carl watched from behind the barn as T-Dog returned to the house. Moments later, his father walked out of the barn with Daryl. Carl instantly recognized Randall between them. Randall twisted and squirmed, trying to free himself, although he was tied up, blindfolded, and gagged. Carl watched as they threw Randall into the trunk of the SUV and then drove off. He wondered about leaving the farm again. He was still angry at his father from last night and he didn't want to be around him or the rest of the group. He wouldn't leave for good—he would just disappear into the surrounding woods as he usually did for several hours and then return. That's what he'd do for today. He also would check Daryl's motorcycle to see if he still had that gun and scope out Hershel's property to see if there were more walkers lurking around. He could practice his shooting. Next time, Carl decided he would be more daring and leave the farm…but for today, he'd stick around and not wander off too far.

**oOo**

Rick quietly drove out of Hershel's farm and then started down the road. It felt like he was reliving the experience again of dropping off Randall, except this time, he expected it to be successful. He expected it to work out because he was with Daryl and not with Shane. He and Daryl were on the same page, able to discuss about what to do about Randall without the arguing and fighting that had always been present when Shane was still alive. As much as he hated to admit it: for the first time, Rick felt relieved that Shane wasn't around anymore. He was glad that Shane wasn't there to badger him about his decisions.

He felt great that Daryl was in agreement about what to do about Randall—which didn't mean outright killing him. Abandoning him in the middle of nowhere was the same as death in Rick's eyes. Give him a gun with a single bullet. Let him decide what to do with it. Shoot a walker. Put it in his mouth and kill himself. To Rick, it was all the same, as long as Randall was no longer on Hershel's farm where he was a threat to their safety.

As he drove down the road, he noticed a group of people lingering on the side in a grassy area. They were several yards away and appeared to be huddled around something, possibly a walker. He couldn't tell since their positions obscured his vision. Rick's hands tightened on the steering wheel. It was a group of survivors and although he wanted to do the right thing and stop for them—his instincts told him to keep driving.

"Check it out," Rick muttered as he drove past them. He never took his eyes off the road.

"More survivors," Daryl said. He glanced into the rearview mirror. The group shrunk in size as Rick drove further away from them.

"Last time I ran into other survivors outside of the farm—I ended up killin' them. That's how we ended up with Randall."

"No more takin' risks."

"Exactly." He remembered what happened at the bar with Dave and Tony. Daryl knew about it, since he knew how Randall got to them in the first place. He didn't want to go down that road again. "Let's dump this guy wherever and be done with it."

"We got this," Daryl agreed. "Almost there?"

"Just several more miles and we'll be done for good. Change of plans. I'm thinkin' instead of drivin' too far off, we drop him about the same distance that Shane and I did the first time, but find a different location."

Daryl looked doubtful. "You sure that's a good idea? We don't want this son of a bitch comin' back to the farm."

Rick shook his head. "He won't."

"I don't know about that. We should stick to the plan."

"Alright, how about twenty-eight miles out."

"That's better. As long as he can't make tracks back to us…" Daryl let his voice trail off as he stared into the distance.

Rick glanced at him and was shocked to feel kinship with Daryl. They had been at odds with each other at one time. Now with Shane gone, it seemed as though Daryl was stepping up to be his right-hand man. Rick thought it was good to have someone back him up. There were times when being the leader and making decisions for the group felt burdensome and he felt thankful to share the responsibility with Daryl.

A half hour later, Rick parked at an abandoned grocery store. With Daryl's help, he yanked Randall out of the vehicle. They dragged Randall and dumped him outside of the grocery store near an area with turned over shopping carts. Rick tore off the blindfold, but left the bonds and gag in place. Randall looked around, his eyes bulging. He fidgeted, trying to break loose of his bonds.

"You get one chance." Rick held up the gun. "One bullet."

He didn't want to stay longer than he had to. Last time he did, Randall managed to manipulate his way into getting back to the farm with claims that he knew Maggie from high school. Rick didn't want to risk that again. He knew this time would be different because he was with Daryl. Daryl wasn't like Shane—he wouldn't try to kill Randall—but he wouldn't help him either. Rick glanced at Daryl, and Daryl nodded, to show that he fully understood what Rick wanted to do. Drop him and leave him there. Head back to the farm and forget that Randall Culver ever existed.

"You decide what you do with it," Daryl said. "Kill a walker, opt out…your choice."

Randall shivered as he stared at both men. He tried to talk, but his words were muffled from the gag. He struggled with his bonds, trying to free himself. During the entire drive which seemed to go on forever, he had twisted his hands, trying to stretch the ropes tied around his wrists. For an instant—he would've sworn that the rope around his wrists had loosened. He pulled harder and felt space between his wrists. His heartbeat quickened as he felt excitement rush through him. Maybe—just maybe—he would get out of this alive.

Then his eyes landed on the gun with the single bullet next to it. At the same moment that he tore his eyes away from the weapon that could save or end his life, Rick and Daryl walked back to the SUV, got inside, and drove off.

**oOo**

The group of survivors huddled on the side of the road watched as the SUV drove right past them. It was a small group of six men…and one woman. The men were a mix of older and younger ages, and each one carried a weapon: shotgun, machete, ax, rifle, mallet, and semi-automatic pistol. The woman had no weapons on her…the men surrounded her on all sides.

A tall muscular man in his early thirties with dark hair pointed down the road. "I think they got our boy. Corey—follow them and don't be obvious about it. Just trail them from afar. Shoudn't be hard. No one else is out here except us and them—and those crawlin' corpses. Follow their tracks."

Corey, a younger man with spikey blonde hair and carrying a shotgun turned to him. "You got it, Nate. They won't know a thing."

"Give it time, I'll let you know when."

Corey nodded. "Will do, I'll get our guy back."

"They're lettin' him go…but we're not lettin' her go." Nate grinned as he ruffled the blonde hair of their prisoner who sat cross-legged with her hands tied behind her back. She flinched under his touch and turned away when another man made obnoxious kissing noises at her. Nate laughed. "Don't get all excited, baby. I know you want more, but damn."

He reached down and pulled her up by her hair, forcing her to stand up. The young blonde woman's eyes were wide with terror. It was impossible for her to scream for help because of the greasy rag stuffed in her mouth. Her blouse was ripped, exposing her bra. She was barefoot and her jeans were torn. Her hair was matted and tangled. Bruises discolored her face and dried blood caked her nose and lips.

"Let's have one more round with you, Andrea—or maybe three or four more rounds. You better keep up with us—you gorgeous piece of ass," Nate said, yanking her hair backwards and exposing her neck. He could feel her shuddering in terror and it excited him more.

"She don't have a choice," one of the guys chimed in. He spit in his palm and rubbed it in Andrea's face. "You know you want more of that."

"You're right, Victor," Nate agreed. "She can only open up her mouth for one thing—and it's not to tell us 'NO'!'"

The rest of the men hollered and whooped. One man groped at Andrea, reaching out to touch her breasts. She kicked him, but missed as he quickly swerved away. The men busted out laughing, entertained at her desperate attempt to protect herself.

"Don't get feisty now," Nate continued as he tossed Andrea to the ground. "The rest of the guys wanna take a joyride. You were so good the first time. Be a good girl an' give 'em what they want…"


	8. The Last Supper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carl's disappearance prompts a thorough search of Hershel's farm with no results, and Rick reflects on everyone in his life---especially Shane, and who he really was.

_"A new command I give you: Love one another.  
_ _As I have loved you, so you must love one another."_

-Jesus Christ - John 13:34 The Holy Bible

Carl was missing.

Whenever Lori had her back turned, Carl wandered around Hershel's farm and then showed up again unexpectedly. Where he went, nobody knew, but he had always returned safely. This was different this time. Carl simply vanished. No one spoke aloud how the situation reminded them of the search for Carol's daughter, Sophia. What might have happened to Carl was a mystery and there were no easy answers. The shocking experience of seeing Sophia shamble out of Hershel's barn as a walker was bad enough…

It was just as well. Everything had been quiet ever since the day Rick and Daryl had dropped off Randall. There were no arguments. No conflicts. Only peace and quiet. Everyone seemed to be in a calmer mood. Hershel's farm had become a hopeful sanctuary for everyone who resided there, that maybe normalcy wasn't a distant dream, but a possible reality.

It was only two days later and things were chaotic again when Carl failed to show up for breakfast. At first, Lori thought he had slept in, but after looking for him throughout Hershel's home and there was no sign of him, it was time for Rick to start an organized search for their son. Meeting with everyone in the dining room, he paired everyone together. He didn't like the idea of anyone searching for Carl alone. It was too risky.

"Daryl and I will explore the barn and the perimeter. Carol, you and T-Dog can search the land surrounding the farm. Maggie will keep watch over Beth. Jimmy, how about you and Hershel search the entire house. Glenn and Dale will cover everything else."

"So we'll stay right here, Rick?" Hershel asked with earnest. He wanted to help out anyway he could. By now, he had fully accepted Rick and the group into his home and considered them to be his family.

"Yeah, I think it's best if someone stays here in case Carl returns."

"With Patricia? Sure thing." He smiled at Patricia who stood next to him.

"I'll cook a meal for all of you. You're bound to be exhausted after all this searchin'," Patricia said.

Rick nodded. "Sounds like a plan. Okay, everyone, let's split up and meet up later this afternoon."

Each pair went off into the direction that Rick had delegated for them. Rick and Daryl were about to leave when they heard someone coming down the stairs. It was Lori. Her eyes were reddened from crying and she held her belly, protecting her baby.

"I want to join the search, Rick. I can't sit here doing nothing."

Rick shook his head. "No, Lori, you need to stay here. I can't risk you and our baby getting hurt."

"But—"

It was too late. Rick and Daryl already left Hershel's home to begin their search for Carl. Hershel placed a reassuring hand on Lori's shoulder. Patricia joined them.

"How about you join Patricia in cookin' that meal for everyone, Lori? Myself and Jimmy will do our part to search for your son."

Lori nodded and followed Patricia into the kitchen, while Hershel and Jimmy went to the basement to start doing a thorough search for Carl.

**oOo**

Eight hours later. Everyone met at Hershel's home with the same conclusion:

Carl Grimes was nowhere to be found.

Rick thought about the peace that had existed for a few days after Shane's execution and releasing Randall. _I should've known it was too good to be true,_ he thought as he entered Hershel's home _._ He and the group had searched every inch of Hershel's property countless times. Rick always felt he had missed a section and would return again. Once, Daryl had to remind him that they had checked the shed five times. Rick wanted to believe that maybe the next try would always prove to be the right time, the right moment when Carl would be found alive and well.

He found Patricia setting up the table in the dining room. The aroma of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and collard greens with bacon beckoned Rick. He saw the dishes of food, lovingly cooked and displayed together. There were several smaller side dishes: creamy grits, glazed carrots, and baked macaroni and cheese. Everything looked and smelled delicious…and yet, he had no appetite. He didn't know how he would be able to eat when he had no idea where Carl was. And furthermore, where was Lori? Daryl read his mind.

"Where's Lori?" Daryl asked.

"She's upstairs," Patricia said, as she brought out two large pitchers of lemonade and sweet tea.

"The entire time she was there?" Rick asked, feeling embarrassed that Patricia had cooked the entire meal by herself.

"No, she was in the kitchen preparing for everyone for more than half the time. Just fifteen minutes ago, she started to cry. Her heart is heavy for your son and all the searching everyone's doing. I told her to take some time for herself. When she's ready, she's more than welcome to join us." Patricia smiled, reassuring Rick.

Rick nodded. He was inwardly relieved that Lori had remained with Patricia. "I'll go get her."

Rick left Daryl with Patricia and walked upstairs to the room Hershel had provided for him and Lori. The door was closed and Rick turned the knob. It was locked. Lori had locked herself inside the room and Rick wondered if she was planning on harming herself as Beth had recently done. He knocked on the door.

"Lori!"

He waited and knocked again. Still no response. The third time he grabbed the knob and pushed against the door.

"Lori—please open the door."

He stepped back ready to break down the door if necessary—when suddenly the door opened from the other side. Lori appeared in the entrance. Her eyes were reddened from crying and her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. She turned away from Rick, ready to retreat into their room when Rick reached out and grabbed her hand. Lori froze, surprised by Rick's gesture and then squeezed his hand in return. She didn't move and Rick came to stand in front of her.

"I know you're upset…"

Lori's eyes raised to Rick's. "I'm more than upset, Rick. I can't take this anymore."

Rick looked at the ground, uncertain of what he could do at this point to make Lori feel differently. Instead, he opted to validate her feelings. "I know, Lori. I get it…I feel the same way."

"My son is gone and you think I want to sit down and eat dinner. Pretend like everything's okay when it's not?!"

"No…but I would like you to sit next to me. Just so that we're together."

"Why can't you sit with everyone else?"

"Because you're my wife….you're the mother of my son."

Rick sighed. He hated that Carl's disappearance was causing a chasm between him and his wife. It was bad enough that they already had marital problems before the outbreak, then the love triangle with Shane as the third point—and now, Carl was gone. Even if she didn't want to eat or talk to anyone, he needed her for support. He had gotten past being angry at her for sleeping with Shane, although it was painful for him to accept. He just wanted her there now, by his side and holding his hand. He wanted her to show him that they were going through this madness together.

"Because I don't want to do this alone, Lori…I can't. That's why."

Lori moved closer to Rick when she heard the bend in his voice. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close to her. Resting her head on his chest, she sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry, Rick…I didn't mean to jump down your throat like that. It's just this whole thing…first Sophia…then Andrea leaves…now our son…" Her voice trailed off as tears filled her eyes again.

"I know…but we're going to keep searchin' for him until we find him."

"Do you think he's on Hershel's property?"

Rick froze. He didn't know how to answer that question—because the truth was, his worst fear was that Carl was out there—beyond the farm. He was terrified at the thought of a walker claiming his son and turning him into one of those undead _things_. But he didn't want to tell Lori that. He couldn't. It would make her feel worse. For his sake and especially Lori's, he had to maintain hope, even if the weight of the other frightening reality was crushing him.

"He might be, and we just didn't find him yet." He gently lifted her face so that they were looking into each other's eyes. "I love you, Lori. I love our son. There's no way I'll stop searchin' for him until we've found him."

Lori nodded and accepted Rick kissing her. She knew he was trying to make her feel better about everything. He was a very good man—the best man she had ever known. She was regretful for all their past arguments, for how their marriage was crumbling before the dead took over the world, and for how devastated he felt when he found out that she and his best friend had been together. She hoped that they would be able to patch together the tatters of their torn marriage. It seemed one way to do that was to focus on the child they had both created together: Carl. On that note, Lori put her arm around Rick's waist and gently nudged him forward.

"Let's go, Rick…maybe we just need some time to breathe and clear our minds."

"Thank you." He was grateful that she was with him when he needed her most.

They went to the staircase together. He gestured her to go first and he followed after. They entered Hershel's dining room together and were pleasantly surprised to see everyone already seated at the table. The food that Patricia had generously prepared was being passed around, family style. Everyone was busy serving themselves. The chatter amongst them was lively and a warm feeling of unity was present.

For some reason that he couldn't explain, Rick felt the need to do a recount of everyone. It wasn't because Shane and Otis were dead, Sophia had been put down, Andrea had left, and Carl was missing. He had this need—a strong compulsion—to count the number of people in the group. As he did so, he also noted the way everyone was sitting. Hershel was in the middle. Patricia, Jimmy, Beth, Maggie, and Glenn sat around him on one side in that order. Dale, T-Dog, Daryl and Carol sat on his other side in that order as well. Rick realized that when he and Lori joined them, there would be twelve people altogether. If Carl was there, it would make thirteen people…

Just as he finished counting, Rick's eyes landed on Leonardo da Vinci's famous painting of The Last Supper. It was posted on the wall and he had never noticed it until now.

"Go ahead, Lori. I'll be with you in a minute."

Lori nodded and sat down next to Carol, who greeted her with a warm hug. Carol understood Lori's anguish the most, since she had lost her daughter after Sophia had ran off and couldn't be found. When Shane broke open Hershel's barn, that's when everyone discovered that Sophia had been with them the entire time. Only Sophia wasn't herself—she had turned into a flesh-devouring walker with no other instinct except to consume the living. Lori allowed Carol to hug her tightly, she needed the love, support, and understanding from another mother. When they broke the hug, Lori glanced at Rick, who was focused on the picture of The Last Supper.

"Rick?"

Rick held up his pointer finger, indicating for Lori to give him some time. He kept staring at the well-known masterpiece. Jesus Christ sat in the middle, surrounded by the twelve disciples. Thirteen men who had traveled together for some time were about to have one last meal together—

"It's one of my favorites," Hershel said, joining Rick. "Maggie gave it to me as a Father's Day gift when she was sixteen."

Rick turned to Hershel, shocked to see him. He was so focused on the painting that he didn't hear or see when Hershel stood up to come next to him.

"That's beautiful," Rick said. "What about this?"

He pointed at a large poster board with two quotes that was situated next to the painting. The first quote read: _A new command I give you: Love one another._ _As I have loved you, so you must love one another. John 13:34_. The second quote stated: _Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends. John 15:13 – The Holy Bible._ Rick realized they were scripture verses. The verses were painted in turquoise blue set against a lavender background. Rick remembered telling Hershel that he wasn't religious and that God has a strange sense of humor, although he had prayed for Shane after burying him.

"Beth made that for me when she was twelve years old. It was also a Father's Day gift. They're my favorite verses. I've tried to teach my girls about love since the day they could walk. Love is a gift, Rick. One that we can give and also receive. Love isn't just about our words, it's also present in our actions. It's what we do for each other in the best of times and especially in troubled times. The other one about laying down one's life for his or her friends has always resonated with me."

Rick sighed when he heard Hershel's words. His mind went back to Shane. He heard Shane's voice in his mind as he pled with him to understand that he tried his best to get him out of the hospital. Or how he got Lori and Carl to safety because it's what Rick would've wanted. And even how he made the choice to sacrifice Otis so that he could bring back the supplies that would save Carl's life. Rick thought about that last part and felt overwhelmed as a wave of grief crashed over his psyche. He felt sad, angry, and guilty—all three things at once—when he realized how much it haunted Shane after he made that decision.

He was _never_ the same after that night at the school.

Rick had always known Shane to be short-tempered, but there was something different about his anger after that night. It was vicious and often came out in outbursts, demands, and arguments. Shane's anger was directed towards anyone who didn't see things his way. Dale and Hershel were his prime targets, but Rick knew most of it was aimed at him. He was angry that Rick wasn't listening to him or how Rick wanted to appease Hershel and show the older man understanding—while ignoring their surrounding reality. It was a growing rage that made him want to kill Randall if it meant everyone else would be safe. And it was an internal fury that consumed him because life had changed so much that he had done the unthinkable: he killed to live.

Shane was frustrated that others couldn't see what was clear to him: survival meant making difficult decisions. And yet, he had made those choices out of his desire to keep everyone safe. It was out of love for Rick, Lori, and Carl that he risked everything that night at the school, and even at the hospital. When Rick thought about it, maybe Shane wanted the Grimes family to still love him, even as he struggled with his flaws, wrestled with his emotions, and made bad decisions at times—such as starting a relationship with Lori.

Shane's love for others, his wanting to be loved, and even the love he had for himself—had come at a very high cost. Rick now fully grasped that Shane had sacrificed himself emotionally—out of love. There were other emotions such as fear, shame, jealousy, and loneliness. Rick recalled Lori telling him that she spoke to Carl about Shane feeling very afraid. He never stopped feeling guilt for killing Otis, an innocent and kind man. Rick realized Shane had covered it with anger, but it didn't make the guilt go away. When Rick confronted him on the CDC situation, he expressed shame for forcing himself on Lori. He couldn't face Rick because he knew what he had done was wrong. It was a poor and desperate attempt to become close to her again, and he had frightened Lori to the point where she had to physically stop him. He felt jealousy towards the man he had loved as his best friend and brother who he came to view as an obstacle and his competition. And loneliness...stark, cold, and empty loneliness. He could no longer be with the woman he loved, although she was never his to begin with. Rick now realized how lonely his best friend was in life and in death.

Rick came to another conclusion: if Shane didn't feel afraid or angry—if he had been indifferent to Rick being in the hospital completely helpless—if he had escaped Atlanta and left Lori and Carl to fend for themselves—if he had shown no remorse about his actions that killed Otis and devastated Patricia—then Shane wouldn't be a man capable of love.

"Rick? Is everything okay?"

Rick was thrust back into the present moment when he heard Hershel speaking to him.

"I'm sorry, Hershel, what were you saying?"

"The scripture verses that Beth painted…" Hershel smiled warmly when he turned to nod at his youngest daughter. Beth sat next to Jimmy, enjoying her meal. He turned to Rick, who was listening intensely. "They've carried me throughout my life, especially this one," he said, pointing to the first one. "It's the most basic thing that Jesus commanded us to do: love one another."

Rick nodded. He didn't know what to say.

"My favorite painting next to my favorite scripture verses given to me by those I love most. What can I say, Rick? I'm blessed. I know right now, you are feeling anxious about Carl, but we will find him. I believe we will, although I can't make any promises. I just want you to know how blessed you are. You have many people who love you…and whom you love."

Hershel gently turned Rick around so that he was facing the dinner table. Everyone was seated together and had begun eating the dinner that Patricia and Lori had prepared for them. Hershel's words rang in his mind: _you have many people who love you…and whom you love._ Hershel was right: Rick loved every single person sitting at the table. _Lori, Dale, T-Dog, Glenn, Maggie, Beth, Jimmy, Patricia, Carol, Daryl—_ Lori had been in his life since high school. Everyone else was new to him, and Hershel's words made Rick realize that he loved them as his new family. He smiled when he saw them enjoying the dinner, talking among themselves.

Rick thought of something he treasured about each of them.

Dale was wise and tried to help the group to keep their humanity. T-Dog was caring and loyal, he would do whatever was good for the group. Glenn had saved his life when he was trapped in the tank. Maggie had brought Lori to the Greene farm after Carl had been accidentally shot. Beth…Rick didn't know a lot about her, but he was appreciative that she was welcoming to everyone in his group. Jimmy had joined them to help find Sophia. Patricia still extended warmth and kindness to Rick and the group—even after learning the truth about Otis' death. Carol was a comforting presence to Lori during the past few days when she was distraught about Carl. Daryl had started out as a loner, however he was becoming more of Rick's right-hand man, and out of everyone there, he had never gave up on searching for Sophia. Hershel had saved his son's life and after some time, came to accept the entire group into his home so that they could live and work together. Rick felt inspired by Hershel's peace—he wished he could emulate it.

Even those who weren't there… _Otis, Carl, Sophia, Andrea_ …He cared for all of them, whether they had been in his life for years, or if he had just met them when the outbreak had brought them together. They were a part of his life now and he would always love them. Otis was remorseful shooting Carl and had offered to do anything to make up for it. Sophia had been a friend to Carl. Rick knew Carl felt less alone in the group when Sophia had been there because there was someone his age. Andrea had wanted to contribute more to the group by learning how to shoot. Rick was glad he had remembered everyone. Lori and Carl were his life, his reason for striving to live and survive. That went without saying…

That left one person who had painted his memory on Rick's heart… _Shane_ …Rick clenched his fists when he remembered all the fun times they had together growing up, attending high school together, talking about girls (or it was more of _Shane's Sexcapades_ as Rick liked to call them)…and then as adults, joining the police force. Having Shane as his best man when he married Lori. Shane was the first person who arrived the hospital after Rick called everyone to let them know Lori had gave birth to Carl…

Rick didn't know what he thought or felt about Shane anymore. He kept ruminating about his best friend and there was no end in sight. His grief was messy and confusing—sometimes he still felt furious at Shane. Other times, he was doing everything possible not to break down in tears. Then there were times where he felt relieved and accepted that his best friend was dead—even though he was the reason for it.

Rick heard everyone talking and laughing above his flurry of thoughts about his love for the group and his feelings about Shane's demise…he knew he needed to join his newfound family and let the past rest in peace. He couldn't go backwards, he could only move forward. He needed to join the group and focus on the here and now. He watched as everyone tried to make the most of their time together.

"You gonna eat that?" Daryl asked Carol, pointing at her glazed carrots.

"Of course, Daryl. Get your own!" Carol laughed as she moved closer to him. In response, Daryl wrapped his arm around Carol's shoulders in a protective manner.

Maggie and Glenn were talking to each other, completely wrapped up in their own conversation. Beth and Jimmy ate quietly. Hershel left Rick and sat down next to Patricia, who handed him a plate full of food. Dale smiled as T-Dog told him a joke about his experiences as college football player. Lori looked expectantly at Rick, gesturing for him to sit down next to her.

"Are you joining us, Rick?" Lori asked.

Rick nodded. He had spent so much time thinking about the past and present that he had forgotten that he was there to have dinner with everyone. Afterwards, they would resume the search for Carl.

"Thank you," Rick said as Lori handed him a plate of hot food.

"I put a little of everything for you," Lori said, squeezing his shoulder affectionately. "Everything is delicious and there's lots more. Patricia cooked for an entire army."

"Well, at least when we go out there again, I'll have a full stomach and plenty of energy to spend on looking for our son."

"Yep, so you better eat up, Rick Grimes!" Lori kissed him and squeezed his hand.

Rick forced him to smile. He was glad she was with him and now he found in it in himself to be content. For the first time since waking up from his coma in the hospital, he felt peaceful. Hopeful. Even optimistic. He remembered feeling that way after burying Shane, but this time it was different and felt more real. He believed everything would work out somehow. He didn't know why he felt or thought that way, but he wanted to keep those feelings for as long as he could. He had learned that hope was like a butterfly—delicate and could easily fly out of his grasp if he didn't carefully hold onto it.

Right now, he would eat his dinner and try to enjoy his time with his wife and his new family. Then, he would go back out there and find Carl. There was no way he could've went too far from Hershel's home. Rick had his fork poised over his food, ready to eat, when he heard it:

A loud knock from the front door.

Everyone must've heard it too because an eerie silence filled the dining room. All the laughter and conversations died down. Everyone looked at each other, wondering if they heard what they thought they did. Moments later, the same knocking came again. Only this time, it sounded more forceful and urgent.

Rick felt everyone staring at him, expecting him to make a move, respond, or say something. He rose quickly from his chair. _It's Carl_ , Rick reasoned, _that's why I felt that hope a moment ago._

"Carl—I know it's him." He said scanning the faces of everyone. He saw a mix of confusion and curiosity written across everyone's faces. It was as though they wanted to know who was outside, but at the same time they wondered how anyone had found their way to Hershel's home. Wasting no time, Rick rushed out of the dining room and headed towards the front door. As he did so, he heard Hershel speaking to the group.

"Everyone keep calm. Rick and I will be right back. Just finish your dinner or have second helpings if you like."

Hershel joined him and they walked side by side.

"I couldn't stay there—it has to be him, right?"

Hershel nodded. "I'm believing for the best—that it's Carl out there and he will join us in time for a warm meal."

"I hope so, Hershel."

"Let's believe for the best outcome."

Rick was about to respond, when out of nowhere he was filled with a sense of foreboding. The uneasiness he felt now drowned out the hope he had felt just seconds ago. He didn't know why he felt this way, but he couldn't shake it off. He swallowed nervously and forced himself to breathe calmly. He didn't want to feel any fear as it would block out any rational thinking. He hoped it was Carl banging on the door. _Please let it be you, son._ _I'll scold the hell out of you and embrace you at the same time._

Just as he finished thinking those thoughts, he and Hershel had reached the door. He knew his anxiety about the situation made it seem like it took forever to reach the front of the house. Rick closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened his eyes again when he felt Hershel's reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Rick, you're my family now. Whatever happens, we'll face it together."

Rick nodded. "Thank you, Hershel. You've been kind to all of us."

Hershel released him and reached for the door knob. Then he thought better of it and gestured for Rick to open the door.

"If it's your son on the other side, it's best he sees you first." He saw Rick hesitating. "Go ahead, I'm right by your side. I'm not going anywhere."

With renewed strength and hope, Rick grabbed the doorknob and opened the door.

Carl stood on the other side, his eyes reddened as tears ran down his cheeks…and Randall was next to him, pointing a gun at his head, a malicious grin plastered on his face…

 


	9. Choices and Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confronted by Randall's gang, Rick is forced to make an excruciating decision, knowing his life--and the lives of his family and friends--are on the line.

_"_ _Nobody ever did, or ever will, escape the consequences of his choices."_

-Alfred A. Montapert

"Dad…" Carl's voice came out in a strained whisper.

 _"_ _CARL!"_ He involuntarily yelled his son's name.

Rick felt his legs buckle and he heard Hershel draw in his breath. He sounded far away although he was standing right next to Rick. Rick heard chairs being scraped against the floor and knocked aside. There was the unmistakable sound of feet hitting the ground, grunting, shoving, and running—it was getting closer and then it became quiet. The silence didn't last for long.

"What the hell?!" Daryl grumbled.

Rick heard Daryl cursing under his breath and then sensed Lori next to him. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. He could feel her nails digging into his skin.

"Oh my God…Carl…oh my God…" Her voice came out in a panicked whisper.

He didn't turn to face her and he knew the group was standing behind him and Hershel. He felt strengthened by their presence, but another part of him wanted to scream at them to run away and save themselves. His gut told him this was going to get very ugly.

He needed to figure out how to approach the situation. He knew he couldn't allow himself to get completely lost in the anxiety and fear that was already twisting his heart and mind, making it almost impossible to think straight. Rick looked ahead of Carl and saw a large group of men standing in the front yard. One of the men held a blonde woman hostage, his arm encircling her waist. Her hands were tied behind her back. She squirmed and he pulled her closer to him although she tried to wrestle herself out of his grip. From where he stood, Rick could see she was crying.

"Andrea…"

"Is this him?" Rick heard someone ask. "Is this the shithead who kept you chained up?"

"Yep, it's definitely him," Randall answered. He smiled at Rick. "Long time no see! Look who I found wandering around outside the farm." He motioned with his gun to Carl.

Before Rick could answer, Randall grabbed Carl and moved to the side as a young man with dark hair now stood on the other side of the door. He was tall and muscular with piercing gray eyes, and carried an uzi.

"Rick, right? The name's Nate. Pleasure to meet you, although the pleasure's all mine. It's nice to put a face on the name." Nate grinned, but there was no happiness in his expression. He looked carnivorous as he glared at the two men inside the home. "Why don't you join us outside?" He gestured to where the rest of his men stood with Andrea. "So we can have a man-to-man talk?"

Rick turned to Hershel. "I have to…" He couldn't complete his sentence. He then turned to Lori and gently caressed her hand, willing her to release him. She let him go reluctantly.

"No, Rick…no…don't go out there," Lori said, shaking her head. "You have to get our son back…"

Without saying a word, Rick pulled her close to him to comfort her. He needed to reassure her that he would do anything to protect her, their son, and their baby. He could feel her body shaking in his arms and he tightened his embrace. He had an inkling that this would be the last time he held his wife. He didn't know why that was and he tried not to dwell on it. He didn't address what she had said as he knew the shock at seeing Carl at the mercy of Randall made her stumble with her words.

"It's gonna be okay, Lori. I'm gonna get our son back."

Rick pulled away from Lori and saw tears running down her face. His shirt was wet from her tears and he had to do everything possible to remain stoic. He stepped away, hating to abandon Lori at a time when she needed him, but he knew their son needed him more than her right now. He would do everything possible to ensure that Carl would live. Rick's hand reached the door handle and he stopped when he heard Hershel.

"We're in this together, Rick." Hershel appeared surprisingly calm as he squeezed Rick's shoulder. "We'll get through this." He offered a heartfelt smile to Rick in an attempt to reassure him that everything would work out.

Rick didn't return the smile. He opened the door and stepped onto the porch.

Nate stepped off of the porch and motioned for Randall to follow his lead and bring Carl with him. Rick watched as Randall backed off the porch and dragged Carl along. It took every ounce of Rick's self-control to not storm towards Randall and yank him off his son. Carl cried silently and he mouthed _"_ _Dad"_ over and over again. Randall kept the gun pressed against Carl's temple, grinning the entire time.

"C'mon Rick, we can hang out together like one big happy dysfunctional family," Nate said, gesturing for Rick and the rest of the group to follow him.

Rick started down the stairs, never taking his eyes off his son. "It's gonna be okay, Carl. Just stay calm. We'll get through this." He hated himself for using the same words he had told Lori moments ago and that he had even repeated what Hershel had just said.

Carl nodded, trying to show his father that he would do his best to remain calm. His body, however, betrayed his true feelings and he trembled violently when he felt the cold surface of the gun pressed against his temple.

"SHUT UP!" Randall shouted as he nudged Carl's head with the gun. "Say one more thing out of turn and your boy gets blasted in front of you!"

"Easy now, Randall," Nate said, and Rick thought he sounded like he was trying to contain his laughter. "I know you're still bent out of shape from their royal treatment, but that's no way to act in front of our new friends."

Rick froze, waiting for what to do next. His body felt hot and cold at the same time. His heart drummed against his chest. He didn't know how this was going to end and he wanted to do everything possible to ensure he and his new family survived with the least amount of violence and casualties.

"Keep goin', Rick." Nate's false friendly demeanor shed itself to reveal an aggressive man bent on getting his way. "Put your fucking hands in the air where we can see 'em—the same goes for all of you!" He waved his uzi in a threatening manner, making it clear he would shoot them on the spot if they didn't listen.

Rick raised his arms slowly. He turned around and watched as the rest of the group left the house and came down the steps to stand with him. Rick felt he was in a real life horror movie with no ending. He saw Daryl and Carol standing side by side, their hands raised. Daryl glared at Nate and Carol stared at the ground. Lori was standing beside Carol. This gave Rick a tiny sense of comfort that Carol was near his wife. Lori's hands were raised, and she kept shaking her head in disbelief. Glenn's and Maggie's faces had paled to an ashen color as their arms shot upwards. Hershel remained calm as he lifted his arms into the air where they could be seen. T-Dog and Dale also raised their arms and kept their palms open to show they had no weapons on them. Jimmy was trying to keep Beth calm as she cried hysterically. Patricia stood on the other side of Beth, her hands high in the air.

"I know I don't stutter," Nate growled as he stomped over to where Jimmy stood next to Beth.

Rick turned to see what Nate was doing when a blonde man with spiky hair forced him to stay in place.

"Eyes straight ahead. Don't look back there unless you want to swallow bullets for dinner."

Rick did as he was told. He didn't see Jimmy holding Beth close to him, but he heard him trying to console Hershel's youngest daughter.

"Beth, do as he says. We'll make it. I promise you we will."

Nate aimed his uzi at Beth and she cried harder. "You!" Now he pointed the uzi at Jimmy. "Make your girlfriend shut her whiny little mouth or she gets to see your brains splatter across her chest."

Jimmy was shaking, but he nodded quickly. "Beth, please…please…just do as he says. Try not to cry anymore."

Beth wiped her eyes and slowly raised her arms. Jimmy did the same.

Nate stayed in front of them for several seconds more and kept his uzi trained on them. When he was certain that they were going to keep the same pose, he smiled with approval.

"Keep 'em where we can see 'em. No funny tricks or you get shot point-blank. Am I clear or do I have to demonstrate?"

"You're clear," Jimmy muttered. Next to him, Beth sniffled, trying not to cry.

"Excellent!" Nate felt thrilled as he made his way to the front of the group where Rick stood. "So, Rick back to you again. Let's discuss how this is gonna go down for you, your son, and your friends…"

Nate stood in front of Randall and Carl, and gestured for Randall to move back more so that there was more distance between them. Then he turned back to Rick, who watched Carl the entire time. Nate was the barrier between them and Rick. Rick tried to focus on what Nate was telling him, but it was impossible. How could he concentrate when a crazed man pressed a loaded gun against his son's head? A man that he had released!

Rick felt a mix of fury and regret for his choice to release Randall now and another part of him wondered if it would've been best if Shane had killed him. Even if it meant what he thought would happen: Shane using Randall as a way to lure Rick away from the group so that he could murder him—Rick knew he would've been ready. He would've faced Shane one-to-one and it may've ended with the same result: being forced to kill Shane to protect himself and his family. The more Rick thought about it, the more his head pounded mercilessly as he developed an excruciating headache.

Despite all the thoughts swirling in his mind, Rick forced himself to focus. He saw Nate's group spread across the lawn—they were larger than he had imagined. There must've been at least forty men and they all held weapons—pistols, bats, shotguns, mallets, axes, hammers... The group of men was made up of various ages and ethnic backgrounds, and united under the front of being a gang of bullies who terrorized other survivors. As Rick sized them up, Shane's voice rang loudly in his mind: _Daryl told us he runs with guys who raided from other survivors and raped women for fun! He tried to manipulate Carl into setting him free. He has a group of thirty men that'll come to this barn and wipe us all out!_ Rick had to force himself to not put his hands over his ears. It wasn't because he didn't want to be reminded of Shane—he didn't want any sudden movement on his part to be misconstrued for resistance that would give Randall or Nate the green light to murder Carl.

 _Randall…_ Rick glared at the younger man who happily held his son captive at gunpoint. The same Randall who had begged for his life…this former version of Randall ceased to exist. Rick realized too late that it was all an act on Randall's part. Whether out of desperation to preserve his life, or from learning to be manipulative to get what he wanted from others—the tied up Randall who appeared weak and willing to help Rick's group if it meant his survival—was now replaced by a sneering and cruel man who was glad to be amongst others like himself. He was a carbon copy of the group he ran with and just as dangerous. Nate's group had no interest in co-existing, but would bully, humiliate—and kill—to get their way.

Their treatment of women was horrific.

Rick trembled when he thought about what they had done to Andrea. He kept stealing glances at her. He couldn't tell if she noticed him and was too afraid to respond, if she was drugged up…or worse yet, if she was emotionally and physically beaten down from all the abuse and trauma she had endured at the hands of Nate's group. Her appearance spoke volumes about what had happened when she had left the farm and ran into them. Her face had purplish blotches from being punched. Chances were those same hideous bruises were all over her body. Dried blood stained her lips and cheeks. Her clothes were ripped and her blonde hair was full of soil as though someone had shoved her head into a pile of dirt. He instantly knew that Andrea had been raped repeatedly by Randall's friends—and possibly gang-raped.

Rick tried not to think about it, but every time she entered his vision, he was reminded of her awful fate. He regretted the awful tension that arose between them after his decision to execute Shane. Out of everyone in the group, Andrea was the most vocally opposed to it (aside from Dale) and she didn't hide it. He wondered if he was to blame for what happened to her. Just as quickly, Dale's words resounded in his mind: _"I don't blame you for Andrea leaving the farm. She's an adult, capable of making her own decisions."_ Andrea had made her own choice to leave, knowing that it was dangerous to be alone out there. She felt Dale had taken away her choice away to die at the CDC, and as a result, he decided to respect her choice this time around—although now it was far more costly. Rick didn't know if her decision to leave the farm was solidified after that night when he met with the group to decide Shane's fate. He knew he couldn't hold himself accountable for her choices to go out on her own, just as she couldn't hold herself responsible for his decisions to execute Shane and release Randall. And yet, despite her choice to leave on her own, Andrea was _not_ to blame for any harm that had been done to her. The full blame rested on Nate and his gang of thugs.

All the same, he wished none of this had happened. He wished he hadn't killed Shane. He wished he never released Randall. He wished Andrea had stayed on Hershel's farm where it was safe. He knew Andrea and his wife had their share of arguments, but he would rather Andrea and Lori bicker with each other, than for her to be out there facing all kinds of life-threatening situations. He wished the outbreak had never occurred. Most of all, he wished that everything happening right now was an awful nightmare that he would wake up from. He wanted so badly to find himself in the hospital with Lori, Carl, and Shane at his bedside—so that all the tragic events leading to now would be considered an abnormal byproduct of his coma.

Nate snapped his fingers, yanking Rick's attention from Andrea. "You better pay attention, Rick, or you'll miss out on all the fun." He turned to his group. "Spread out and force them to kneel next to our new best friend. Take any weapons they have on them—it's ours now."

Pulled back into the present, Rick watched in shock as Nate's group fanned out towards him—and went past him. He didn't turn around for fear of what was happening behind him, but he heard all of it.

"You—the skinny bitch, you come right over here and sit!"

"Keep those hands where we can see 'em!"

"On your knees—now!"

"Get down, before I _shoot_ you down!"

"Keep eyeballin' me, you old bastard, and I'll pop out your eye socket!"

One by one, each person from his group was pushed next to him so that they were lined up on either side of him and forced to sit in an uncomfortable kneeling position. The entire time, he remained focused on Nate and his uzi, Randall holding Carl at gunpoint, and Andrea being held captive by another man who kept his arm snaked around her waist. The man had forced Andrea to stand near Carl and Randall, but he never released her. Rick heard the cries of everyone he loved, but he didn't dare look on either side of him. He easily recognized their voices. First, Hershel. Then Lori. Followed by Carol, Daryl, Beth, Jimmy, Patricia, Dale, T-Dog, Glenn, and Maggie. All their voices overlapped and yet each one was distinct and recognizable.

Daryl gave comforting words to Carol. _"_ _We got this, Carol._ _Ain't none of us dyin' today."_

Lori said his name and their son's name in a disjointed manner. _"_ _My Rick and my Carl…please God."_

Hershel whispered a prayer for protection. _"_ _God, please be our shield at this very moment when all seems uncertain."_

Dale kept repeating _"_ _Andrea"_ in a voice that cracked with tremendous pain and regret.

Glenn consoled Maggie. _"_ _Don't be afraid, we'll survive this."_

T-Dog tried to keep Patricia calm. _"_ _I got your back, Patricia._ _You don't have to worry."_

Beth was singing in a raspy voice and Jimmy joined her. _"_ _Oh all the money that e'er I spent I've spent it in good company."_ Rick thought it was strange to sing at a time like this. Maybe Beth was trying to distract herself?

"Roy and Luke—head over to the barn. I'm sure you'll find some shovels to start digging a mass grave. Make sure it can hold…" Nate paused he counted everyone including Rick, "…about fourteen people. That sounds about right." He then turned to Rick again. "You killed two of my men."

Rick didn't hear him as he was overwhelmed from hearing the expressions of terror from those around him. Gasps, crying, and moaning blended together into a morbid cacophony when everyone in his group realized whom the mass grave was for. A blinding flash and his face swung. He tasted coppery blood in his mouth. His face throbbed with pain and he reached to grasp it when he saw Carl writhing in Randall's grip and Andrea twisting around, trying to free herself. Rick's hands shot straight in the air again and this time he heard what Nate had told him moments ago.

"I told you to pay attention, Rick! I don't like repeating myself. You get two more fucking passes. Or maybe I'll just shoot one of your friends kneeling next to you. Their rotting corpse will be used to fertilize the grass. I'm sure you don't want that."

Rick shook his head. "I'm sorry, can you r-repea—"

"Of course, I can," Nate said in an exaggerated glee. "You killed two of my men, you dumb shit."

Rick searched his mind and then remembered: _Dave and Tony._

"Dave and Tony", Nate said, at the same time Rick recalled their names. "I remember that night. I had asked you about where they were, remember?" The anger in Nate's voice was real. "All I wanted to know was what happened to our friends. I asked if you could help us not get killed. Us, as in me, Dave, Tony, and everyone I came with including Randall."

Rick nodded absent-mindedly. He heard what Nate was telling him, but his mind was elsewhere as he tried to figure out how he and his group were going to make out of this awful situation—alive.

"Even if you don't remember, the outcome is still the same. You can play Mr. Forgetful or act like you know what I'm talking about. I don't give a rat's ass because I'm not the one going in the ground today. All of your family and friends will be dead before the day's over. Chew on that for a second, Rick."

Hearing Nate's words shook Rick to the core, but he still tried his best to recall everything that was being stated. He and Glenn had found Hershel in the bar, drinking, and coming to grips with the reality that the walkers were not sick and curable—that they truly were reanimated corpses that would devour any living human being. It was shortly after the barn massacre that Shane had started. Hershel was devastated to find that what he wanted to believe was wishful thinking. Even now, Rick couldn't find it in himself to be angry at Hershel for holding onto that hope. He understood that everyone had their own way of coping with the outbreak, even if sometimes it wasn't fully realistic or helpful.

While there, Dave and Tony had entered the bar and asked about where they lived. The farm came up and Rick remembered that he had a bad feeling about both men. His years working in the sheriff's department had heightened his senses. He felt bad that both men were desperate and looking for shelter, but there was no way they would open up the barn for strangers they knew nothing about. It took a lot for Hershel to eventually accept Rick and his group, but Dave and Tony? The situation spiraled downward faster than Rick had expected, but deep down inside he knew he would have to kill them to ensure the safety of his family and friends. That's when they realized that Dave and Tony weren't alone and had their own group. Their leader had came around looking for them and spoke to Rick from outside:

 _"_ _We're just looking for our friends. We don't want any trouble. If something happened, tell us. This place is crawling with corpses. If you can help us not get killed, I'd appreciate it._ "

Rick now realized he was face to face with Nate—he was the man who had been on the other side of the door that night at the bar. Rick had told him that Dave and Tony pulled their guns out on them first. Nate had asked if Dave and Tony were alive and Rick had shouted at him.

 _"_ _Your friends drew on us! They gave us no choice. I'm sure we've all lost enough people. Done things we wish we didn't have to, but it's like that now. You know that. So let's just chalk this up to what it is, wrong place, wrong—"_

Rick shivered as the memories replayed itself in his mind. It was vivid and clear to him as though it had happened yesterday. He remembered Glenn slamming the door before Nate and his group could enter and Hershel knowing how to shoot a gun although he didn't want to do it. Nate's group had shot at the glass, shards flew everywhere, and there was no telling if Rick, Glenn, and Hershel would get out alive.

The rest of the events flashed through his mind—Randall shooting at them from the roof, scaling the outside of the bar, the walkers devouring one of Nate's men, and finally, Randall trying to escape with his friends and getting injured in the process. Nate had abandoned him and Rick had insisted to Hershel and Glenn that they help Randall. Glenn didn't want to help him since Randall had shot at them and Hershel had suggested putting him down—shoot him and end it all. Rick insisted on helping Randall, even while they were surrounded by walkers. It was nothing short of a miracle that they had escaped in time…

"Are you listening to me? You're at it again with this fucking daydreaming!"

Before Rick could dodge from him, Nate landed a backhand punch across his face. Rick's nose exploded with pain. Blood flowed down his face. Over the ringing in his ears, he heard Lori yelling at Nate. That brought him back to the present moment.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!" Lori looked as though she was about to get up and strike Nate.

"Don't yell at me, you stupid cunt," Nate said, approaching her. "Unless you want more of the same treatment. I don't discriminate when it comes to beating someone to a pulp. Only difference with you is that I'd fuck your brains out before putting you down."

Just as quickly, Carol wrapped her arms around Lori in an effort to help her contain her anger. "Don't do this, Lori. Think of your son…think of your husband."

Nate stopped when he saw Carol holding Lori in a strong embrace. He scowled and then laughed at the sight of one woman protecting the other.

"You're lucky I'm having a brief spell of kindness." He turned to Rick. "Tell your wifey that she better not speak out of turn again. Otherwise, one of my guys will drag her to the barn and make her scream more. Her bosom buddy will get the same treatment."

Rick heart hammered at his chest now and he made himself turn to Lori and Carol. He saw the panic etched across her face and painted in her eyes. "Lori, I need you to relax. Please. Breathe, I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?"

Lori nodded. She took deep breaths and allowed Carol to hold her as it helped her to calm down. Rick sighed in relief. He was thankful that Carol had immediately acted to protect Lori. He also noticed the steely glint in Carol's eyes when Nate had threatened both women. Rick had never seen that look in Carol's eyes before. There was a ferocity that had never been present—he wondered where it had come from.

"I'm not gonna backtrack. You should've been listening, Rick," Nate said. "Let's cut to the chase because I'm tired of yapping and my fingers are itching to pull the trigger and shoot you all up…but I'd prefer not to do that. At least, not yet."

Again, Rick heard the consternation around him, but this time he made himself focus only on Nate, who now walked between Carl and Andrea and their respective captors.

"I got two of your people: your son who likes to snoop around in places where he doesn't belong,' Nate said, patting Carl's head, "and your gal pal whose talent for multi-tasking shocked the hell out of my men." He grabbed Andrea's jaw and squeezed it before letting her go and coming back to where Rick stood.

Rick's hands almost closed into tight fists, but he kept them wide open to ensure that nothing in his body language betrayed any form of a fight. Rick was certain that both Carl and Andrea were forced to show them where the farm was. He instinctively knew that Nate and Randall had threatened to kill them if they didn't bring the group back to the Greene property.

"We can't do an even exchange…we can't give you back Carl and Andrea, since you can't give us back Dave and Tony."

"You got Randall back," Rick said, making no effort to disguise his anger. He didn't know if he was angrier at himself or at Randall for returning to the farm with Carl as his prisoner.

"Yeah, we got him back—and he told us everything you guys did to him…so don't think the score is even yet. Here's what we're gonna do…" He addressed his men that now stood behind Rick's group with their guns trained on them. "Keith, lend me your baseball bat. I promise to give it back. I can't promise it will be squeaky clean!" Nate laughed as he approached Keith.

A young black man in his twenties with thick locs pulled back in a ponytail stepped over and handed Nate a wooden baseball bat. He then returned to his spot with the rest of his group.

"You get to decide who you're gonna kill," Nate said, pointing the bat at Carl and then at Andrea. His voice was calm as though he were discussing his favorite dessert. "The choice is yours." He gave the bat to Rick.

Suddenly, everyone was silent. Both Rick's group and Nate's group were quiet as they watched the scene play out in front of them. Rick felt everyone watching him. His entire group waited to see what he would do, who he would choose—Carl or Andrea— _if_ he would choose either of them.

"You can't hesitate…someone's gotta die. You can do _Eeny meeny miny moe_ if you can't decide."

Rick held the bat and stared at it. It almost slipped out of his hand. There was no way he could do this. Kill Andrea. Kill Carl. Kill one and let the other live. Then he had an idea that came out of his love for his family and friends…and from the scripture verse that he had read on Hershel's dining room wall. He would gladly do it if it meant they would all live.

"You can kill me," he choked out. "You can—"

"Nope, sorry. It doesn't work like that," Nate said, flatly. "One of your own has to die. That's just the way it is."

"Rick, don't do it…our son," Rick heard Lori crying in the background.

"YOU BETTER SHUT UP!" Nate shouted. "Or I'll shoot you right here and now!"

Lori quickly bowed her head and cried into Carol's shoulder.

"Ssshhh," Carol urged. "It'll be okay."

Nate glared at them and then turned back to Rick who was frozen in place.

 _"_ _Dad…"_ Carl tried to reach out to his father. _"_ _Please—"_ Carl was cut off when Randall pistol-whpped him.

"I'll tell you what we'll do to make this easier for you. Let's make this into a game. Pick the right one and we'll leave here. You'll never hear from us again. Pick the wrong one and we take over the farm, simple as that. Are you ready to play?"

Rick's heart was caught in his throat, but he forced himself to spit out the word. "No."

Nate sighed, trying to contain his impatience.

"It's one or the other. Your son, whom you love with all your heart. Or your friend who you probably didn't know even existed until all fucking hell broke loose with the walking dead freaks…so…which one is it gonna be?"

Rick didn't move. There was no way for him to determine who was "the right one" or "the wrong one" to kill. The fact that Nate expected Rick to bash in the head of his son or his friend was too much for him to accept. Then he heard a faint female voice calling his name. He looked up and saw Andrea trying to move towards him, but the man holding her captive squeezed her waist harder. She winced in pain and again tried to reach out to him.

"Do it, Rick." Andrea's voice was raspy. "Do it for your family. For Carl. Don't worry about me. It's what I want."

"See, that's easy! Give her what she wants—a bat to the skull. Crack that bitch's head open. She's already worn out from taking on so many men at the same time, so this is a good way for her to go out. And you know what else?"

"What's that?" Rick didn't want to know.

"Your lady friend here is quite the sharpshooter—she shot one of my guys in the shoulder and another in the thigh. Didn't kill 'em, but it stopped them in their tracks. So we had to teach her a lesson. Put her in her place…we were gonna do that anyway, but her actions gave us more incentive."

A tight smile flashed briefly across Rick's face. He was glad that Andrea had put Shane's training to use. It didn't make her immune to her fate, but he was relieved to know that she got a few shots in.

"Back to our regularly scheduled program," Nate said. "Choose the cunt or the brat. It's very simple, Rick. I wish you'd stop making it so complicated."

Rick stared at the bat in his hands. He couldn't comprehend that he would have to choose one over the other and although he had told Shane that he would do anything to keep Carl alive—he never imagined it involved murdering another person—especially someone who had become like family to him. He had told Shane he would've done the same thing in the Otis situation, but now that Rick was having his own scenario which involved killing one person if it meant his son would live…he had absolutely no words for how he felt. And he didn't know which was worse: to make the decision when there was a herd of walkers at his heels, or having to choose because a group of living people were robbers and killers who would harm his family.

"I'm so sorry, Andrea," he whispered, forcing himself to look at her.  He was sorry for the hatred that developed between them because of Shane's execution. And he was sorry that he had to kill her to save Carl's life.

Andrea nodded, encouraging Rick to go forward with her murder. Tears flowed down his cheeks and he didn't bother to wipe them away. His hands shook and his body felt like cement. He started to raise the bat over his head very slowly, willing himself to carry out the act of brutal murder if it meant his son would stay alive—if everyone on the farm would have a chance to survive this horror. He didn't even know about that last part because there was no guarantee that Nate would let Rick and his family live after he killed Andrea.

"Get it over and done with, Rick." She tried to cover up her fear of her imminent death that she knew would be very painful and violent. "I want to join Amy again…she's waiting for me." Andrea looked up at the sky.

"Shut your whore-hole!" Nate crossed over to Andrea and slapped her across the face. He was oblivious to the shocked gasps that came from Rick's group. "Your friend took out two of my men, Dave and Tony, and then he tried to kill my boy, Randall. So now it's time for him to decide who he feels is more valuable to him: your slutty self or his bratty son! You don't get to tell him what to do!"

Rick wanted nothing more than to slam the bat on Nate's skull over and over again so that he was nothing but blood and brain matter. He wanted to kill him so that he was no longer a threat. But then that left the rest of Nate's group standing behind his group. Rick knew his group was outnumbered, and yet he still wanted a chance at saving both Carl and Andrea.

He held the bat over his head, trying to push himself to bring the bat down on Andrea's head. He didn't know how to prepare himself to murder someone. He remembered telling Shane he would never kill someone in cold blood, but that he would do it for Carl if he had to, and yet…the time had come and now he was paralyzed.

He looked at Andrea, a shell of her former self. Nate was still next to her, pulling her hair. He whispered something in her ear and she shook her head quickly. Then he let her go. He walked back to Rick, and Rick saw Andrea glaring Nate with all the hatred she could muster. Then she focused on Rick and nodded again, giving him permission to end her life.

"Do it…he's your son. I've lived my life."

There was a monstrous sob near Rick and he turned to see Dale crying uncontrollably.

"Please don't be mad with me, Dale…I'm sorry for being angry with you." Andrea said, offering a weak smile to him. "I just wanted it to be my choice…back then and even now."

"I'll take your place, Andrea. Rick, take me instead." Dale started to rise and Keith promptly shoved him down into the same kneeling position.

"Stay in line, asshole." Keith growled. "Don't move again or I'll kill you myself."

Rick had never felt more powerless in his life than he did in this very moment. No matter what choice he made, everyone would be devastated. There would be no way to undo any of these horrible circumstances. He racked his brains, trying to come up with a scenario that would ensure they all lived.

Suddenly, his mind cleared and an idea came to him.

It was risky, but it might be worth it. He remembered Shane's last words: _the right choice is the one that keeps us alive._ Rick had an idea of what he could do to make sure everyone stayed alive. His mind kept thinking up different ways and he finally found a solution. He wanted all of them to live, even if it meant going back out there. Out there into a hellish world taken over by the dead. They would find a new home eventually. They would make it because they had each other. Rick turned to Dale.

"I need you to trust me on this one, Dale."

Dale nodded slowly. He heard what Rick said, but his eyes never left Andrea.

"I have a proposal," Rick said, keeping his voice firm and lowering the baseball bat.

"You want to negotiate?" Nate asked, watching Rick with suspicion.

"Yes."

"Not happenin'. That's not the choice we gave you." Nate spat in the dirt and crossed over to Carl. "Let him go for a second, Randall, his father needs to see this important demonstration." In one swift movement, Nate wrapped his arm around Carl's throat. Carl's hands flew to Nate's muscular arm that was cutting off his air apply. "It's either your son who needs to breathe or your used-up lady friend."

"STOP THIS! STOP IT NOW!" Rick lost his composure when he saw Carl's arms flail at Nate, trying to free himself. "I—I'll make a decision—let him go. Let my son go—NOW!"

Nate nodded and relaxed his grip so that Carl was able to breathe again. He pushed Carl back to Randall, who resumed holding him at gunpoint. "So what's your little plan? This I've gotta hear."

"The farm…" Rick looked at Carl whose face was flushed bright red. Then he looked at Hershel. "You can have the farm…we'll leave. Right now. We won't even wait until tonight. The farm is yours—if you let them go."

"Man, you must be deaf or maybe I'm not clear enough. I told you already: it's either one or the other," Nate said, laughing.

"Let them go and the farm is yours. That's the deal."

Rick now looked at Hershel, silently imploring with him to understand that he wanted his son to live. He wanted to keep both Carl and Andrea alive—by any means possible. He would go back out there into the crazy world filled with cannibalistic corpses if it meant his son was alive by his side. He would do anything to find a new home for Hershel's family and the group. It would be terrible to give up the farm, but they would find their way. He would never give up searching for a shelter where they could all live together safely. And he would _never_ be able to live with himself if Carl or Andrea was killed at his hands.

Hershel nodded quickly, fully understanding and agreeing with Rick's mindset. _"_ _It's okay,"_ he mouthed to Rick. _"_ _We'll make it somehow."_

Rick was grateful that Hershel understood. He didn't have to say it aloud for Hershel to know. Hershel was a father. He knew it. He got it. Now he turned to Nate to see his response. It was the only solution he could come up with that would ensure both Carl and Andrea lived. Now he just needed Nate to agree with him. In his own way, Rick had turned the tables on Nate, so that now the rogue leader would have to make a decision.

And it was a fair decision—Nate could have the farm—that's what Dave and Tony had wanted. Rick broke down the harsh truth of the matter: he could search for another home, but he couldn't bring the dead back to life. In a morbid twist, Rick remembered that the dead came back to life now—but they weren't recognizable as the person they were in life. It was because the dead had taken over that everyone standing outside—his group and Nate's group—were in this predicament.

"That's the ultimatum. Take the farm and release my son and friend. There's no other option."

Nate smirked. "That's not much of a choice, but…"

"It's what your friends, Dave and Tony, were looking for when we met them at the bar," Rick paused, taking a deep breath. He was risking everything. He hoped this would ensure everyone's survival. He didn't care if they weren't at Hershel's farm anymore—just as long as they were alive at the end of the day. "We can't turn back time to bring them back, but we can give up the farm, which is what they wanted in the first place."

Nate looked thoughtful as he looked at his men that stood behind Rick's group. It was as though he were seeking their input. He turned to Randall and the man holding Andrea. No words were spoken by Nate to his men. At first, they didn't indicate that they agreed or disagreed with Rick's stance. Then, as if on cue, they nodded.

"It's a good deal, Nate," Randall said. "Take it."

Rick looked up. He was shocked that Randall had any say in the matter. He wanted nothing more than to break the kid's jaw and knock his teeth out. But…he'd settle for leaving the farm with his loved ones by his side—alive. That was the most important thing. Give up a temporary home, so that he always had his family and friends with him.

"You think so?" Nate asked. His tone sounded genuine.

"I know so."

Nate and Randall didn't speak for a moment and Rick watched them carefully. He couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew they were communicating something to each other. He hated that it was taking so long for Nate to agree—or even disagree—with his proposal. Nate then turned to the other man holding Andrea. The entire time, his back was to Rick, so that Rick had no way of knowing what was going on. He stepped forward, ready to reiterate the new deal when Nate turned to face him.

"We'll take it. Randall, Mark…let 'em go," Nate said, motioning them to release Carl and Andrea. "Let them come to you, Rick. You stay right where you are."

Rick's jaw dropped—was this really happening?! He hadn't even heard Nate's order to stay in place.

Carl _and_ Andrea were both free! They slowly started walking towards Rick. He saw Carl smiling through his tears and Andrea was so shocked that she didn't know how to express her relief. She appeared to have a flat expression, but then her face lit up in a smile as she started towards Dale. Rick didn't realize how much distance there was between himself and them. It didn't matter—he was overjoyed and relieved that he had managed to save _both_ their lives.

He turned to his group and saw that they had been permitted to stand up again. They were safe and Rick couldn't get his heart to slow down. It was still running a marathon in his chest. He figured that once everyone was together and off Hershel's property, he would be able to breathe comfortably again and his heartrate would calm down. Right now, there were no words to express his happiness and surprise that this ugly situation had worked out in their favor.

He smiled as he watched his group bond together. Carol still held Lori in a tight embrace. Daryl was beside them, resting a protective hand on Carol. Patricia and T-Dog looked as though they had been awake for seven days straight. Dale was still crying, but he nodded at Rick, thanking him for the wise sacrifice he had made to ensure Andrea lived. Jimmy pulled Beth close to him and kissed her forehead. Glenn and Maggie were wrapped in a warm embrace. Hershel came over to Maggie and waited patiently. Maggie released Glenn, allowing herself to accept her father's love as he hugged her. Rick smiled through his tears. He was certain that his group completely agreed with his idea to turn the farm over to Nate's group, so that they could all leave alive with Carl and Andrea. Nate's group was still behind them with their weapons out…

And that's when he heard it—four gunshots rang out.

Rick whipped around in time to see Carl and Andrea collapse to the ground at the same moment.

At that very instant, time stopped. Rick heard yelling and screaming coming from all directions. He tried to move and felt stuck. Talking was impossible, his tongue was glued in place. He felt an object slip out of his hands. He didn't bother to see what it was or pick it up. He thought he was running towards Carl, so that he could scoop him up in his arms and get him out of there. Get him to safety. It was like the time Otis had shot him. He would get Carl help as he had done before…

But he was nowhere near Carl and when he looked ahead of him, he saw a young boy lying face down in the grass, the sheriff's hat he wore was still on his head. Nearby, a young blonde woman was sprawled out. Both lay perfectly still and blood pooled around their bodies. He thought he heard someone screaming their names. He also thought he heard a woman yelling out his name, too. It might've been more than one person yelling, male or female or both. Rick couldn't tell. The voices sounded oddly muffled as though he were submerged underwater.

Rick looked around him and the world spun in the opposite direction. He fell to his knees. He still heard the anguished cries and yet, he was distant from all of it. He was disconnected. He thought he could see himself from above. It was like having an out-of-body experience.

He saw himself, his wife and his new family. They were surrounded by a bunch of men with baseball bats, shotguns, pistols, mallets, and axes. In his vision, the men stood around his family in a large circle, making it impossible for them to escape. Rick forced himself to stand and he watched as the men with the weapons separated his family by gender. Dale, T-Dog, Glenn, Daryl, Hershel, and Jimmy were in one group. Lori, Maggie, Beth, Carol, and Patricia were in another group. They were pushed and shoved if they didn't move fast enough.

Rick couldn't swallow. He couldn't move at all. He was frozen and his heart ached when he saw how terrified they were, but he could do nothing to help them. He wanted to hug Lori as she cried and held her belly—she was pregnant with his baby and he wanted to protect the baby from any harm—but he couldn't because he was separated from her.

He was separate from all of them. Somehow, he had an inner knowing that he was being made to stand alone on purpose. Someone came and pulled him away from the scene, but he still watched, unable to tear himself away.

"Separate the cocks from the cunts," a man demanded. Rick thought it sounded like Nate. Nate had a distinct voice. "You're gonna get a front row seat, Rick, you get the honor of watching this whole thing play out."

Rick shook his head and he thought he heard Nate talking to him, but he didn't know where he was. Was Nate next to him? Above him? Below him? Rick had no sense of time and space anymore. Everything was foggy, he couldn't see, but he had some vague sense that he didn't _want_ to see what was happening in front of him. It was too much for him to handle and he thought his mind would explode from knowing too much.

"First, we'll take care of your men 'cause we can't have them interfering while we make love with your women."

Rick heard someone begging and pleading. The person was crying hysterically and unable to contain their emotions. Whoever it was had lost all self-control and Rick thought it sounded like a man. The man's voice was so loud that it was deafening. Rick covered his ears to block him out. The man was bellowing, struggling to be heard. Rick felt his heart rip from his chest when heard the voice cry out: _"_ _PLEASE LET THEM LIVE!_ _DON'T DO THIS TO THEM!_ _YOU CAN KILL ME, BUT LET THEM HAVE A CHANCE!_ _WE'LL LEAVE THE FARM AND NEVER COME BACK._ _DON'T DO THIS—PLEASE!"_

There was silence, but it was over in a heartbeat. Rick heard the man's voice shouting again. He thought he would go insane from hearing the man repeat himself. He kept his hands over his ears until someone yanked his arms behind his back. He could still hear the man pleading, but now he was distracted and the voice gradually died down until it was completely silent. Rick was glad for that; he was relieved to not hear that man anymore.

Someone pulled his wrists close together and wrapped duct tape around them. Rick hated the sticky sensation. He thought it was weird that of all things that came to his mind right now—the duct tape was prominent. Then he was dragged off somewhere. Grass, trees, and bushes swept past him. He thought they were taking him to see his family and friends, but they weren't around. He kept twisting around to see if he would catch a glimpse of them. One of Nate's men grabbed his hair and forced him to look straight ahead. Nate knew whom Rick was looking for.

"Don't worry, you'll be seeing them soon, I promise you that," Nate said, his tone cheerful. "I'm a man of my word. When I tell you that you'll see all of them go—I really mean it, Rick. First things first—I want you to see where you will be laid to rest…where all of your beloved family and friends will be buried. Isn't it kind of me to let you all share the same grave together?"

Rick didn't know how to answer that question. He was afraid to answer "yes" or "no". He felt he had no choice and that neither answer was right. It hurt his mind just thinking about it. He opted for a simple reply.

"I guess so."

Nate laughed and playfully hit Rick on the back as though they were best friends. "Good answer!"

Rick gave a weak smile. He looked around again, trying to get his bearings. He thought he saw a cluster of oak trees. Rick felt calm when he saw the branches moving gently in the wind. The leaves fluttered, but they never fell from the tree. They stayed in place on the branches. Rick liked it, but he didn't know why. As they got closer, he recognized the place.

Shane's grave.

Rick saw the baseball cap that Lori had gave him to mark Shane's final resting place. It said POLICE and Rick tried to remember their times together as high school seniors and as police partners. No memories came to mind and he didn't know why that was. He also noticed a knot on the grave. Rick remembered Shane had taught Carl how to tie different knots. He wondered if Carl had placed the knot there. There was no other explanation. He turned to see where Carl was and realized he was probably in Hershel's home resting or he had wandered off again. Rick wasn't worried. He would talk with Carl about it later. If anything, he was glad that he and Hershel had laid Shane to rest in a tranquil area.

When he passed by the grave of his best friend, it occurred to Rick that Shane had more peace in death, whereas he was at war with himself and everyone else in the last days of his life. Now it was different. Shane was no longer alive to feel pain, rage, isolation, fear, sadness, rejection, or regret. His life had ended before his time—Rick was certain that he would still be alive if the outbreak hadn't happened. Rick thought about how Shane's body was in the ground and his spirit…His spirit was free. Shane was free from all the chaos and violence that had just transpired. _Maybe it's better to be dead,_ Rick thought as he remembered Shane's final words.

 _"_ _The right choice is the one that keeps us alive!"_

Rick smiled sadly when he realized there was both truth and irony in that statement. Shane believed he had made choices to keep himself and those he loved—alive. And yet, it was those same choices that led to his demise at Rick's hands. Rick thought about what he had tried to do to keep everyone alive on Hershel's farm. He swore he was doing the right thing—that he finally understood the significance of Shane's words.

Still, life was unpredictable and many things were beyond his control. He couldn't anticipate what had occurred and what was soon to happen to his remaining family members. When Rick thought about them again, his mind blanked out. It was like a thick black curtain had blanketed his psyche. He couldn't see through the curtain or move it out of the way. It was just there blocking everything out. He couldn't think about anything else now…except that his end was near.

Rick knew he would join Shane soon. He felt comfort knowing that he would reunite with the man he loved as his brother. He wanted to talk to Shane aloud, but he decided to keep his thoughts in his mind. He knew Shane was nearby—he felt his presence and was glad that he didn't sense anger from his best friend after everything that had occurred between them. _I'll be seeing you later today, brother…just wait for me…I'm coming home…_


	10. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One group is left alive...but which one?

"Nate said to make it a mass grave. 'Throw 'em all in, we'll burn 'em later'. That's what he told Roy and Luke," Corey said, as he walked along the edge of the deep pit that had been dug on Hershel's farm.

"He wants to cremate them?" Randall asked. "I thought he wanted to bury them."

"Nate changed his mind. You know how he is. He wanted them buried, but then he decided he had a better idea."

Randall shrugged. He knew better than to go against Nate. "Whatever Nate wants."

He stepped aside as Victor tossed another body into the heap below. The body belonged to an older man with a white beard. Randall recognized him as the man who broke down sobbing when Andrea was shot and killed. He looked into the pit and saw the heap of bodies of several men and women whom he recognized as being alive only mere hours ago. He didn't know all their names, but he knew their faces from when Nate had confronted the group at the farm. When Randall thought about it, he didn't care about their names…or their lives. They didn't matter then to Randall…and they didn't matter now.

"Yep, he's gonna burn the stiffs down there and then we'll have a separate bonfire afterwards. Did you really think we'd toast marshmallows over these guys?" Corey looked like he wanted to vomit. "That's disgusting as hell."

"I know what you meant, dumbass," Randall said, laughing.

"Yeah, right. You're the one with the twisted sense of humor." Corey stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles. "Just a few more miserable corpses to dump inside and we can chill out for the rest of the day. He motioned to the pick-up truck that had a pile of dead bodies on the flatbed. "Let's just finish this."

"It's gonna be fun," Victor said, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Best of all, we got this big house to live in now." He pointed at Hershel's home. "The guys told me there's all this food in there."

"What do they have?" Randall asked. When he was being held captive on the farm, no one had offered him any food.

"Everything—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, sweet tea," Victor said. "It's like they were having a feast and we crashed their party."

Corey laughed. "Well, at least the food won't go to waste, right, Randall? I know you eat like a horse."

"My mom always said I had a bottomless pit. I'd have seconds and thirds," Randall said as he remembered better times. "Sometimes fourths!"

"You gotta share," Victor said. "Can't hog all the food now."

"He _better_ share," Corey said, while yanking another corpse from the pick-up truck's flatbed. "If he doesn't, then we bring him right back to the place where we found him." He threw the corpse of a young Asian man into the pit without a care in the world. It was as though he had found a used up napkin in his pocket and disposed of it on someone's front lawn.

"Yeah, right!" Randall grinned. "Are you gonna do as they did—leave me with a gun and one bullet?"

"I'll do better than that," Corey said. "But I won't tell you what I'd do—it's better as a surprise."

Randall shook his head in amusement. He knew his guys wouldn't let him down. He had never felt so shocked and relieved when Corey found him at the abandoned grocery market. Randall had been there for a short time—maybe a half hour at most—while he worked on getting out his bonds. By the time he recognized Corey's moped, it felt like hours had passed. When he had been brought back to the group, Randall's excitement had skyrocketed when Nate revealed to him their plan—he knew where the farm was, so bringing the group there would be easy. And Nate was a good guy—he let him have fun with Andrea as a "welcome back" gift. She had resisted and fought back as much as she could. For Randall, that just made it all the better.

The next day they ran into that kid wearing his father's sheriff's hat. He had been wandering around the outskirts of the farm's property. Randall remembered the kid telling his father to kill him. With that memory in mind, Randall wasted no time in grabbing the kid and bringing him back to his group—tied up and blindfolded. It was justice in Randall's eyes to treat the kid the same way the kid's people had treated him.

The kid's bravado failed him when he saw Randall's group had Andrea as their prisoner. It was obvious that Andrea and the kid were from the same group. Nate pressed forward with his plan. He was determined to avenge Dave and Tony, now that they had two members of the rival group. Of course, it took some convincing and coddling (more like threatening and terrorizing) for Andrea and the kid to agree to lead Nate's group back to the farm, but eventually they "warmed up to the idea" as Nate put it. Randall smiled when he remembered how Nate explained their options:

_"_ _Take us to the farm—if you refuse, you get shot right here and now._ _Or you can take us so that you end up dead with your family and friends. So it really boils down to this: die alone or die with your loved ones._ _Your choice…"_

The reality that they weren't going to live—no matter what they did—finally hit Andrea and the kid. Their hopelessness was apparent when they stared down at the ground, crying and refusing to look at Nate, Randall, and the rest of the gang of men who surrounded them. Nate knew exactly how to get what he wanted. In the end, Andrea and the kid led them back to the farm, with the full knowledge that if they "acted out of line" (Randall loved Nate's terminology), they would die, and if they "behaved themselves like they should"…well, they would die anyway.

_The rest is history,_ Randall thought, grinning. He knew where the barn was, but it was more fun to force Andrea and the kid into leading them back there. He was thrilled that Nate allowed him to play a role. That exact moment when he looked in the kid's father's face and saw his terror in his eyes would stay with Randall forever. There was a door separating them at the time, but it didn't matter. Randall could feel the father's horror radiating from him, and that made up for all the trouble he had experienced when he was their prisoner.

Now they were all dead. Every single person on that farm was a memory. There was nothing left of them except their corpses. Randall looked into the mass grave again and he remembered how they were all killed…

First, Nate had fooled the kid's father into thinking he'd release his son and friend. From there, it had all spiraled down. The "Farmer in Charge" (as Randall liked to call him) had been stabbed in the chest. The black man was beaten to death after being forced to fight against three of Nate's men. A teenager was hung from the farm's rafters. The redneck archer was shot with his own bolts. The young Asian man had been strangled. In Randall's mind, Andrea's older male friend had been given the most merciful death—they gave him a gun with a single bullet, while aiming their guns on him, forcing him to kill himself.

The women were a blur to Randall. All five of them—the sisters, the pregnant woman, and the two older ones—were dragged off behind the barn and the group took turns raping them before finally killing them. Randall thought it was funny that the two older ones were put out of their misery first, since Nate's group made it clear that they preferred younger women. Then there was the pregnant one—Victor and Corey enjoyed forcing themselves on her while she screamed, cried, and pled for her baby's life. Randall was aroused just remembering how he and all the guys had taken turns on the two sisters. They had been the most entertaining for the group. Randall thought Nate would keep them around for their own pleasure, but no—Nate wanted to get "fresh meat" and told the group it was only a matter of time before they found what they were looking for. So the sisters, along with the pregnant woman, were murdered unceremoniously.

Randall looked down at the bodies in the pit. The sisters' bodies lay side by side. He was about to comment on it when he heard Corey.

"Last, but not least."

Randall watched as Corey removed the last body from the pick-up truck's flatbed. He instantly recognized it as the corpse of the group's leader. _Rick._ The name made Randall's stomach churn. Even in death, he could see Rick's features under the dried blood and tear stains that marked his face.

"This guy lost his mind in the end—he went nuts!" Corey said, dumping Rick's corpse into the pit.

"He really did," Victor agreed. "That was wild!"

Randall remembered Rick's death. His was the most horrendous. They made him watch as everyone was beaten, stabbed, strangled, hung, raped, shot… He was saved for last. Randall had a moment with him just before Nate's men took turns pummeling him: _"_ _The best comes last!"_ Randall didn't think Rick heard him, but he didn't care. He felt damn good about taunting Rick—since it was Rick who had kept him prisoner all those days in the cold shed with no water and food, chained up like a wild animal.

Randall laughed as he recalled every detail of Rick's downfall. He never knew anyone could cry so much. It was as though Rick had enough tears to fill up all the oceans in the world. And he didn't feel it was beneath him to beg and plead for their lives of his family and friends. That was the best part. Randall loved hearing every word that spilled from his mouth:

_Please let them live._ _Don't do this to them._ _You can kill me, but let them have a chance._ _We'll leave the farm and never come back._ _Don't do this._ _Please._

Rick had repeated those words so many times that after a while, Randall couldn't even hear it anymore. It was just annoying background noise. After some time, Rick had stopped when they passed by a particular area on the farm. Randall didn't know why Rick teared up more. It was the strangest thing seeing him smile while crying at the same time, although for a brief moment, he appeared completely calm. Randall thought Rick's sanity was squashed or that he was behaving weird. The area appeared different from the rest of the farm: newly turned dirt as though it marked a recent burial and covered by a baseball cap that read "POLICE", and a small knot. Randall didn't know what was the big deal, but Rick had fixated on that area until they pushed him along. When they brought him to the mass grave, he was numb to everything around him. He was the first person to see where he and everyone else would end up.

The biggest guys in the group had beat him to death with the same baseball bat that Nate had gave him—after forcing him to witness the final moments of his family and friends. Randall thought it served him right after Rick had captured him, almost killed him, tried to abandon him once (which failed thanks to his hot-headed partner), and then dropped him off again with a gun and a single bullet. Randall wasn't stupid. He knew Rick wanted him to kill himself, or at least, die out there surrounded by the undead.

There was one person missing and Randall had no idea what happened to him. He wished he could've had the honor of shooting that loud-mouthed-in-your-face-over-the-top aggressive cop in the stomach. He wanted to experience the utmost pleasure of watching that mean son of a bitch die a slow and excruciating death. Randall wondered what happened to him—maybe he did the world a favor and drowned himself. Maybe he shot himself in the mouth and collapsed to the ground with blood surrounding his head. Maybe he slit his wrists. Randall grinned when he imagined it. He hated that man more than anyone else on the farm. This man had seen right through his act, had threatened him several times, and almost killed him before Rick and his friends stopped him.

It was over now.

The group was dead and Nate's group was in charge.

Randall felt thrilled about everything. He was with his friends again, he had a roof over his head, and plenty of food to eat. There was no one in the world to stop them. They could spend the rest of their lives out here, isolated, safe from the rest of the crazy world. Eventually, they would run into more women. Randall hoped they would so that he and the guys could have as much sex as they wanted. There were no rules, no laws—nothing in place to punish them if they wanted to have their way with women—or anyone for that matter. They could take whatever they wanted from whoever they wanted. And if the opposing party didn't give up willingly—then Nate's group used brute force. And in some cases…deadly force. For now, Randall knew Nate wanted to settle on the farm. There was time to get used to being there and no reason for them to leave. They also had plenty of time to divide the spoils. Randall had already claimed the crossbow.

"Time to head back," Corey said. "You coming or not?" He pointed at Victor who had started towards the home. "Unless you want to spend more time with the stiff freaks below." He pointed at the bodies in the mass grave.

"Yeah, 'cause they really need my company." Randall snickered. "Nah, I'll go with you."

Corey smirked as Randall joined him and they walked back to their new claimed home. The day was great and it would only get better. Nate had promised his group a large bonfire to take place later in the evening. Burn the corpses, toast marshmallows (on a separate fire!), laugh about today's exploits, divide their treasure, and live happily ever after. Randall had never felt more excited in his entire life.

**oOo**

Nate's group was inside the safety of their stolen home…so they didn't hear the distinct growling coming from the pit that indicated newly reanimated corpses. Nor did they see the bent and bloody fingers clawing at the dirt…trying to reach out and escape their grave…

**The End…?**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this story is dark in nature, it's my hope that it was still enjoyable to read. The last two chapters were the most difficult to write and post. I thought of changing it so that it was less severe, but I felt in order for the story to have the full impact, I had to push full steam ahead. Let the story tell itself, keep my vision intact, although it was sad, painful, disturbing, and difficult to write.
> 
> As a "ShaneFan", I wanted to write a fanfic about how Shane Walsh views his choices and how others view his choices. There's much debate about his character and the decisions he made, and the same could be said about many other characters in The Walking Dead, especially Rick Grimes.
> 
> What I love about The Walking Dead is the humanity and depth of the characters and their interactions. Given that they are trying to survive a zombie apocalypse, choices can make or break a character, it can cost them their lives or the lives of those around them. They can also make choices that save lives. Whether the choice saves or ends a life (or lives)...what does it cost that character? Most of all, how many options do you have when trying to survive in a zombie apocalypse? The decisions made by the characters, be it Shane, Rick, Dale, Andrea, etc, aren't made in isolation. There are motivations, intentions, and reasons behind their choices. I wanted to explore that since that's true to real life. There are various factors that impact the choices we make, and there are ripple effects and consequences, be it good or bad.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read my story. I appreciate the time you gave to my fanfiction. God bless and all my best.
> 
> -Sassy Lil Scorpio


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